


Blocking Will Get You Nowhere

by VenusInCancer



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: 90s setting, 90s tech, A/B/O, Alpha Kano, Alpha female character so warning if you don’t like the implication, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Kitana/Jade (mentioned), M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Omega Kabal, Pregnant People Doing Dangerous Stuff, Swearing, Unreliable Narrator, birth scene, blowjob, canon clusterfuck, dysfunctional romance, human Ferra and Torr because this is AU, kid Ferra because what is her age?, semi-graphic birth, tenuous passage of time, unburnt Kabal, very mild A/B/O tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusInCancer/pseuds/VenusInCancer
Summary: Please heed the summary and tags. This is MPREG, that is now finished, and contains a semi-graphic birth scene.Organized Crime AU? Everyone is human AU? D-bag Bros AU is probably most accurate.Black Dragon is a bar, where all the lovely criminal types hang out, but not a criminal organization itself. Mortal Kombat is an underground fight club held in its basement, rather than a save-the-world tournament. Kano oversees the action for a kingpin known as the Emperor. It's gravy, until SF infiltrates the club, and Kano also totally knocks up one of his bros. MPREG, A/B/O, Kano/Kabal. Probably OOC, because I feel like giving any of these guys even a shred of a conscience denotes OOC.Dysfunctional professional partnership and denial of actual friendship between Kano, Kabal, Erron Black.Bad guys who think they're heroes, or just DGAF that they aren't.For the TL;DR version: MK11 made Kabal hot so I decided to put a baby in it.





	1. Chapter 1

  
  


 

It's a full house. The cage is shaking, there's so many people pawing at it. Like sardines in a can. But they don't want out. This is what they came for.

This is the Black Dragon's specialty. Can't leave anyone wanting for more.

_No unsatisfied customers._

Kano likes to think it's his motto. They either leave satisfied, or maybe they just don't leave.

Reputation's everything in this business, after all.

Broken glass, broken teeth, all over the concrete. Blood and puke, too. Cuts and bruises all over the blokes—few broads, too—taking turns inside the cage. But they knew what they were getting into.

It's nothing but sweat and heat where there should be air.

So much fucking sweat and heat that there's no way Kano should be able to pick out any one person's scent.

But he can.

For the exact same reason Kabal won't quit fucking fidgeting—shifting his weight, cracking his knuckles, tugging at his shirt like he's on fire. He's already only in a tank top.

It's not _the_ heat. It's _a_ heat _._

Must've just started, given that either of them's got still any self control. But it's a heat.

Fuck it all.

Oh, Kabal'll make a great piece, Kano's got no doubt about that. But it's water better left uncharted. Uncharted, and unmuddied.

They're mates.

Maybe not mates.

Definitely not _mates._

But they work well enough together. Keep the Black Dragon running smoothly enough that the Emperor stays off their backs.

Kano was already plenty ready to get laid after all of this; a good fight always gets him going. He was ready enough he didn't really care who it was. Now he does. In all of the wrong ways.

He stands up, snags Kabal by his damp tank top, and growls, “Office. Now.”

The shirt moves. The defiant omega wearing it doesn't. Oh, _now_ he stops fidgeting. He's still as Death now, but it sure isn't out of fear.

Smug fucking prick.

“I said—” Kano tugs again, and the sound of fabric tearing punctuates the end of his sentence. “— _now_.”

Erron sees Kano and Kabal leave the fight in a rush, from his position across the cage. He nods just a bit, acknowledging their exit, but doesn't follow. Someone's still gotta keep an eye on the fight, and the crowd. Besides that, he's damn well smart enough to know when something's personal.

It's a quick enough walk from the basement to, and _through_ the bar upstairs. It's quiet topside, but the noise, the chaos, the danger—it's still just behind Kano. Kabal, too. Just below the surface, like always.

They're just stepping out on it, _like always_. Kabal's no longer being held—as if he ever really was. If he wanted to put up a fight, he would have.

Kano flips the light switch with one hand, and slams the office door shut with the other.

There's even less air in here.

“What the hell, Kano?” Kabal growls it out. He can pretend it's that he's just pissed off Kano dragged him from the fight. He loves a good bloody Kombat night as much as anyone. But he's edging closer and closer to being all hormones and no resolve and they both know it.

It's gonna be the one time ever Kabal can't _not_ be exactly what he is: an omega doing everything _but_ outright begging for it.

Sweating and shivering at the same time. A goddamn walking contradiction. Well, that's just him in a nutshell, isn't it? Hard, rugged features, unlike most omegas. Bulk, to match his height. Not just bulk—muscle. Big mouth, and plenty of fight to back it up.

Zero inclination to cater to anyone's baser desires, just 'cause that's what was written into his parts.

Most of the time.

Kano's circling Kabal like prey and he can't help it. Okay, he can. But he's sure as shit not planning on it. Kabal either doesn't notice, or doesn't care. Probably trying to stay in control and all.

Nah. He's never been intimidated by the alpha. Any alpha.

Try to pull status on him, he just digs his heels in deeper.

It's what got Kabal the job in the first place. His ability to match wills, wits, and blows with anyone threatening the Black Dragon, any day of the week.

But one of these days... That bravado's gonna get him killed.

Or fucked silly and filled to the brim by his boss.

Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Moths to a flame.” Kano's voice is thick and he's removed all space between himself and Kabal.

“I'm not the only omega around here.” He's still steady. Well, that's damn impressive at this point.

“You're the only one with your high-beams on. And I sure as hell ain't the only alpha who noticed.”

“I can take care of myself.”

There's a twitch at the corner of Kano's mouth, and way more than a twitch in his pants. “Now where's the fun in that?”

* * *

Kabal knows he looks like trash. He feels worse. Reminds himself he better get used to it. What's done is done, and he only knows how to go forward.

How it's all gonna turn out is anyone's guess. But it's gonna turn out.

He wishes whoever is shaking the damn Polaroid would quit it, because he's beyond nauseated. Doesn't make the picture show up any quicker, or clearer, anyway.

It's still looming and foggy, but very present and real at the same time. Feels like waiting for the clouds to part, that fog to dissipate, and to see what the storm left behind.

For all the things it is, most of them both vague and intimidating as shit, it _ain't_ moving to another zip code because it rains less there.

Still, Kabal knows he's been avoiding Kano for the past few weeks.

Tries to pump himself up by saying it hasn't been entirely on purpose.

It has been. But it's been mostly work related, and not just because they both lost all willpower and fucked in a frenzy in the Black Dragon office.

That's one way to deal with a heat.

If you're a caveman.

There's a couple of ways to deal with what happens after.

Kabal already wasn't looking forward to the discussion, and knows it's only gonna get worse when he tells Kano he plans on keeping it.

He's exhaustion and queasiness and irritation right now and is convinced it's gonna go terribly. He hasn't taken off his sunglasses and has the hood of his pullover cinched-up so tight that it could almost pass for a hangover if it so obviously wasn't.

Kano gives him a look up and down, and chuckles. “You don't have to say it, mate.”

When Kabal finally responds, all he says is, “Good.”

The _'You knocked me up'_ is checked off, at least.

Kano's still staring him down. It's a weird mix of predatory and rueful. If pride and disgust had a lovechild—

Shit, they're going to.

It's clear Kano both wants to boast and to make this disappear. Alpha pride that he put one where it counts, and just plain logic that it's a terrible idea to keep it there.

Well, _he's_ not the one considering that. More than considering it. Kabal has made his mind up about it and is trying to figure out how not to be just terrible at this.

 _This_. Having a fucking kid.

“Clean, sterile. Won't be one of those shoddy, back-alley jobs. You have my word. Nobody'll say anything. Unless they want either of us blowing their doors off, down the road.”

Kabal's not surprised Kano's gone straight into fixer mode. He knows Kano likes to think of himself as a problem solver and all. Must be bad if he's trying to make amends, though. Or whatever the hell the Kano version of that is. Except Kano's only got two settings when it comes to that. Make it bleed or make it stop bleeding.

Kabal appreciates the effort, if not the way it’s manifesting. _'I'll fix this'_ is nice. _'I got your back'_ would be a lot better.

Kano's already moving on, with, “A real clinic, with a real doctor. After hours. Couple days to sleep it off.”

It's just so dismissive, and Kabal has every intention of telling Kano he'll just take care of it himself. That he can _take care of himself_ —that's what he means.

Thinks about the last time he said that.

Irony, party of one.

Only it isn't one anymore. It also isn't him and Kano.

As firmly as he can, Kabal just says, “Not interested.”

Kano looks incredulous. He's pissed, but he's amused, too. He echoes, “Not interested?” like he's sure he didn't hear it right.

“Don't worry about it, Kano.”

“Not going to,” he insists, a little too quickly. Then he hisses something that sounds an awful lot like, “ _You stupid fuck_.”

It'd be insulting if it wasn't entirely expected. Still. There's something brewing inside Kabal—no shit there is—and he knows it's got him sending out all sorts of unanswered maydays.

A subconscious, _'I've got something that belongs to you.'_ And a bright neon, _'I need you to want me for it.'_

Needs someone to understand why he wants this, because fuck if he does.

That didn't come out right. Probably won't be the last thing.

 _Doesn't_ understand, _does_ want. Well, doesn't _not want_ , anyway.

_Isn't going to get rid of._

“I'm gonna go clean the cage,” is all Kabal finally says, and turns to leave.

“Fuck me. If I'd known knockin' you up would make you volunteer to clean, I'd have done it years ago.”

“Just my way of saying I'd rather wallow in blood and puke than be around you right now.” Fits how Kabal feels. Or something.

“And here I thought you were getting domesticated or something.”

Kabal's got no real response to that. Just flips Kano the bird as he's heading for the stairs. Even if he did have more to say, there's no point in arguing. Just heads for the basement. For a minute, he's sure Kano's following him.

Realizes pretty quickly it's wishful thinking and keeps on, until he's reached the cage. It's both bigger and smaller when it's empty.

Someone's there. Been there, and doesn't belong. Someone who found an opening and came in uninvited.

No, it's not just that weird vibe of the cage when no one's in it. How it always still feels like there's people in there. Like the fight's never really left it.

It isn't some metaphorical overthinking brought on by fatigue and hormones—both omega and pregnancy. _Ugh_.

No, there seriously is someone else in here with Kabal.

It's not Kano.

“Who the fuck are you?”

It's a man. Late twenties? Early thirties? Sandy brown hair, and everything about him is too clean. But he's smug, too. Cocky. A real holier-than-thou type.

He's got size. He's not huge, but he's big enough, and has a sort of manufactured athleticism about him. The kind who may _work out_ , but doesn't _work_ for what he's got. Takes his swings at dummies that don't hit back.

Kabal wonders how fast he is.

He knows he's being sized up the same way.

“Just wanna talk,” the guy lies.

_Then come in the front door._

Kabal snorts. “This definitely ain't the place for that. Who sent you?”

He doesn't get an answer. Just another question. “You work here...?”

The guy's obviously fishing for a name. Kabal isn't gonna bite.

Is he a cop or something? Because _fuck_ , if he is. Two-bit rival snooping around is one thing. They'll tell the Emperor, he'll either send out some feelers or give them the green light to stamp it out themselves.

5-0 is another mess altogether.

“You work here? Promoter? Fighter?”

He's _definitely_ a cop.

“Which do you think?” Kabal asks, a smirk playing at his lips.

It's been a while since he's raised hell. Job's been pretty lackluster lately. Lots of babysitting other people while they fought. A few escort missions for the Emperor. Even a couple nights of playing doorman at Outworld and turning away ugly chicks for a buck.

He'd be all about getting in a few good licks if he didn't feel so fucking terrible. On account of being pregnant and all.

Doesn't have a choice, though. Whoever this squeaky-clean intruder is, he's gonna have to answer a few questions. He's definitely gonna need some softening up first, too.

If there was a bell, consider it rung.

Kabal bum rushes the man. It's the kind of charge that usually spins his opponent around a couple of times, trashes their equilibrium, and gives him the upper hand from the get-go.

But this guy's got some balls, and he charges right back. He and Kabal near-miss headbutting one another, and lock arms in a grapple, instead.

They eventually break hold and Kabal barely blocks a knee to the ribs.

He knows he's not on his game, that he's usually much quicker than this. Fighting unarmed, too. Hookswords aren't exactly discreet. He doesn't just carry 'em everywhere. Worse, he's squared off against someone legitimately tough. Squeaky Clean's actually got some moves. It'd be respectable, if he wasn't on the wrong side of the law.

That being the right side.

They dodge knees and trade blocked punches back and forth, until a roaring, “What in the fuck is going on here?!” draws their collective attention.

It's Kano, and Erron's right next to him, too.

Well, now it's a party.

Outnumbered three-to-one, the guy raises both arms and allows Kabal to grab him. His willingness to surrender might have a little something to do with Erron's pistols being trained on him.

Kabal's fishes around in his pockets for ID of some sort. Comes up with a bi-fold wallet and tosses it to Kano. Nudges the man forward.

Kano catches the bi-fold and declares, “Supposed to be cleaning up, not making a bigger mess.” He flips the wallet open and whistles over what he sees inside. Kabal can't make out the details, but there's a badge to go with the ID card.

Kano murmurs, “ _Special Forces_.” Pauses, then offers a taunt, “Don't know about you, mates, but I feel real special. Now what the fuck are you doing here?”

Mr. Special Forces decides to answer that by turning and sucker-punching Kabal in the gut. It's a desperate, last-ditch attempt at gaining some leverage, and a hard enough blow that Kabal doubles over.

He stifles a groan as Kano's pulling his knife from its sheath.

“Ah, shit,” Erron mutters. Reaches out to help Kabal up and is shoved away out of pride.

He stands up on his own, with a hand clutched to his stomach. It hurts, and he's pissed, but it's nothing like the expression on Kano's face.

There's something in his eyes, and just _in him_ in general that Kabal has never seen before. Kano sounds way too calm when he says, “I hope that was worth it, mate.” He doesn't give the man a chance to respond. “Because it's the last thing you'll ever fucking do.”

It'd be cinematic—poetic, or something—if it was a nice, quick, sexy slash. But _Special Forces_ here, is clearly a _fight_ guy when it comes to fight or flight. He shields himself from Kano's wild, indiscriminate slicing as long as he can. Long enough that when Kano does finally get his throat, it's because his arms have already been cut to ribbons and he can't raise them anymore.

One step forward, and one last slash.

There's gurgling, coughing, groaning. Blood dribbles, bubbles, _sprays._ Kano doesn't back away from it until he finally collapses. It's not loud, when the man finally falls, but it's not quiet, either.

Kano, Kabal, and Erron all stare a moment. Dead body's nothing new to any of them. It's not that. It's that someone got that close to them. Not just anyone, either.

Kano looks to his knife, his shirt: beyond bloody. He grimaces, as if it bothers him. Then asks Kabal, “You alright?”

“ _I'm fine_.”

Kano casts a glance down, toward Kabal's midsection, and immediately back up. “Socked you a good one in the breadbasket. Just asking.”

Erron lets out a sigh. Does it loudly, on purpose. “I don't mean to interrupt.” He pauses, and that's damn well on purpose, too. “But can we maybe do something about the dead guy in the middle of the room?”

* * *

“You care to explain what in the hell that was all about?” Erron's asking, even though he knows.

He mostly wants to hear Kano's answer. It's just the two of them, after all. No need to put on a show for Kabal. He's probably off puking into the porcelain somewhere, if he's okay. Bleeding into it, if he's not.

Because _that's_ what it's about.

Erron's damn well savvy enough to know what the two of them got up to a few weeks back, and why.

He also knows what's become of it all.

If that show in the cage wasn't an alpha gone batshit nuts defending his omega, Erron'll be a monkey's uncle.

He probably will be, anyway. They'll try and appoint him godfather or something, a few months from now. He's as sure of that as he is that it'll be a joint effort, and just _shit_.

“What in the hell are you asking for? What's it matter to you? You got your own ideas, anyway.”

Erron shrugs. “ _Doesn't_ matter to me. Long as it doesn't _screw things up_ for me.”

Except it already has.

Being right-hand man to a fella who's just carved up a Special Forces agent in a fit of rage is gonna have repercussions.

“Mind your own business and it won't.”

Erron feels fit to point out to Kano, “He's got friends.”

Kano just chuckles. “No, he doesn't.”

Erron groans. “Talking about that lawman, not Kabal.”

“Oh. Right.”

Point. Proven. Kano can play at not giving a shit all he wants, but it's pretty damn clear this has gotten to him. Worse still, Erron has to consider that it might not just be primal, anymore, how they feel about each other. Kano was exactly that in the cage. But now that the adrenaline's worn off and there's time to really think—

It's gonna be a goddamn soap opera around here and Erron didn't sign up for this shit.

It's exactly why he spent so long on his own, going from job to job. Never agreeing to anything official with the Emperor. Hell, even when he did, it was years before he accepted anything other than _one_ job, _one_ paycheck at a time. In case he ever had cause to move on real quick.

Now? Well, now, he reckons he's let himself get complacent, working at the Black Dragon. Worse than that, he let himself get friendly with the likes of Kano and Kabal. Let himself forget that they're _all_ just hired help, and that forging anything other than a business relationship is just asking for trouble.

Kano breaks the silence. It's good. It's lasted too long, anyway. “Well, if _his_ friends come around, we ain't seen him.” He shrugs, and thickly—sickly—chuckles as he adds, “Even if we had, he could be in about a million places by now.”

Erron laughs just a bit, despite himself. Well, just because it's sick doesn't mean it ain't funny. He mutters, “Shit, Kano.”

It's true. One thing about Kano: he doesn't half-ass things.

They cut that agent into enough pieces to send one to everyone he's ever known. If anyone ever does happen upon a piece of him, it's gonna be damn hard to ID him, and trace him back to the Black Dragon. To Kano. To Erron and Kabal by proxy.

That's the whole damn point.

“Yup.”

“Yup.”

Erron feels it in his bones. The shitstorm of the century is on the horizon and the Black Dragon is right in its path. He can either help board up the windows and wait it out, or tip his hat and leave for higher ground. _Or_ run headlong into danger like a goddamn lunatic, alongside the likes of Kano and Kabal.

That could be fun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kano still has both eyes; Mr. SF is a mix of all of Sonya's ill-fated partners.  
> Shit's probably way OOC, because Kano and Erron have always been portrayed as motivated solely by money and self-preservation. Kabal's been aligned with good before, but that's not part of the canon this Kabal was derived from. That being MK11 canon where he's hot as balls. Just let me have bros in their bar, tearing shit up, and having actual feelings sometimes. And MPREG. Don't judge. You're here reading it.


	2. Chapter 2

It's not the first time Kabal has had to bounce back. From any number of things. From being sold up the river. From being one of the Emperor's scapegoats. From having to make sure he dishes out more, and better damage than he takes, and faster.

It's part of the job.

Part of it? Hell, it _is_ the job.

Kabal knows this.

He also knows that what went down in the cage was some _next level, we're royally fucked_ kind of shit.

He'd be lying if he tried to pretend he didn't feel a rush, and a damn welcome one, being in a real fight. It's been way too long. Then the son of a bitch caught him in the gut. _After_ the fight was over.

It hurt. It hurt, and it scared him. And it pissed him off that it scared him. Still does. Piss him off, that is.

Then Kano completely lost his shit and _slice n' diced_ the guy in the middle of the cage.

Guy? He was Special Forces. He wasn't there by accident. No doubt he was gonna end up dead, but Kabal knows well enough Kano wanted to pump him for info first.

Good thing the fight was even less advertised than usual or they'd have to worry about witnesses.

“Hey! You!”

Kabal turns his head, then looks down, so he can actually _see_ who's calling out to him.

It's a fucking kid. Or gremlin. Or something.

There's a wildness, a danger about her. Something half-cocked, but there's also an innocence that hasn't been completely snuffed out either, and— Oh, what the hell does it even matter to him?

Kabal's got every intention of ignoring her, and keeps on for the Black Dragon.

Until— 

“Ferra see you fight,” she taunts.

He stops.

Say. Fucking. What.

He doesn't look back, just tells her, “You didn't see shit. And I hope you weren't dumb enough to tell anyone you thought you did.”

“Ferra see, and tell Torr. But him won't tell.” After the briefest moment of silence, she unnecessarily adds, “You fight good!”

“Gee, thanks. Means a lot, coming from you.”

“Ferra fight, too. Ferra fight good. But not like Torr. You see Torr fight. Him win you lots of money.”

“That isn't how it works.”

In _so many ways._ But Kabal's not gonna stop and explain them all. Or any of them. Because he's got the headache from hell. Pairs nicely with the dizziness and nausea.

All par for the course. Awesome. Kabal made his bed. Whatever.

He inhales sharply, through the queasiness, as he turns to face this Ferra. “Tell me everything you saw, kid.”

“Ferra not kid!”

“Just tell me.” He groans.

She leans in way too close to Kabal, and forces him to take a good look at her. Sure looks like a kid, for someone who swears she isn't one. Her eyes are big, and full of something that looks like concern. “Hey!”

“What?”

“You have baby?”

“What? Hell no.”

“Don't lie! Ferra know!” She points. Does more than point. She fucking pokes at Kabal's stomach. Still flat, thank you very much.

He snatches her by the wrist and squeezes roughly, before shoving her hand away. “Just tell me what you saw, alright.”

“Ferra see you fight. But him dirty. Hit you after the fight. Make your alpha crazy mad and—” She makes a swiping motion across her throat.

“He's not my alpha.”

“Why not? It's him baby.”

Her speech pattern's broken as hell, but Ferra sure gets her point across. Beyond that, what she lacks in sentence structure she damn sure makes up for in knowing shit she shouldn't. Even worse, there's no doubt about it: Ferra did fucking see.

Didn't go down nearly as quick, or clean as she's just described. But she was there.

Kabal leans into the Black Dragon's doors. Everything seems so heavy. He steps inside, and of course Ferra follows.

Kabal's ears are suddenly ringing but he can still hear Ferra calling out, “You okay? You look bad. Sick bad.”

Kabal just looks to Erron. “Where's Kano?”

Erron doesn't respond. He's too busy eyeing Ferra. “You know, if you want a pet, maybe start with a goldfish.”

She's more puffed-cheeks than puffed-chest, but she's all determination, either way. “Ferra not pet!”

“No? Then just what is Ferra?” Erron asks, stepping forward and looking her over.

It's Kabal that answers, and he knows he sounds so fucking tired. “A witness.”

Erron chuckles. It's not quite as creepy as when Kano does it, but there's darkness mixed in with his amusement all the same. “Is she now?”

“Where's Kano?” Kabal's asking again. He's not really sure why. Something in him just tells him Kano should be there, and it gets stronger the worse and worse he feels.

“You already asked that,” Erron reminds him.

“And you didn't answer me.”

“Ain't seen him. There ya go. Get outta here. You look like hell.”

“I'm fine.”

“You sure?” Ferra's all up in his face and _her face_ is scrunched up. “You not look fine.”

Erron laughs again. It's all amusement this time.

Stupid shit kid.

“Back off.” Kabal shrugs Ferra and her concern away. He looks to Erron. “She's the one you oughta be telling to get outta here.”

Maybe she'll actually listen to Erron. Because in the few minutes she and Kabal have known each other, she's ignored everything he's said to her and tried to cop a feel.

He's not quite sure what Erron says next. Because there's a coldness, a tingling in his limbs. A shakiness as he draws a breath. He isn't gonna puke, but he's definitely gonna drop.

Kabal comes to with Erron and Ferra standing above him, and Erron's got the seltzer nozzle aimed at his face. Aimed, and he's squeezing the trigger like he's at the fucking carnival trying to win a top-shelf prize.

“For shit's sake, quit it. _I'm fine_.” Kabal would be yelling if he had the energy to.

Erron finally relents. He seems really self-satisfied as he says, “Get outta here. And take the imp with you.”

* * *

Kano lays out his terms. “No wires, no bugs, _no prison time_.”

Sonya hasn't agreed to them yet, but she will.

“I just want to know what happened to Lance—” She pauses. Shakes her head and corrects herself. “Agent Wexler.”

First name basis. Means Sonya and _Lance_ were close.

Make that Lieutenant Blade, Special Forces. Alpha. Not team. Alpha _female_.

Isn't that just something?

It's how she introduced herself, when she stormed into the Black Dragon. Minus the alpha bit, of course. Oh, she offered it up right away, just not in words.

At least she had the good sense to come through the front door. Unlike some people.

It's always a dive bar, though, isn't it? On TV. In the movies. When the law shows up, flashing their badges and wanting answers about something or other. It isn't until they've got all the rats trapped, poisoned, or just made them scurry off, that they storm the ivory tower where the big bad actually hides out.

Then they haul him in for unpaid parking tickets or some nonsense.

Sonya here is long blonde hair, even longer legs, and no bullshit. Would be, at least, if she wasn't genuinely upset about her partner. Lance Wexler, _also_ Lieutenant, _also_ Special Forces.

Deceased.

Sonya isn't privy to that last bit.

The worry, the bond between them—it's made her weak.

Corruptible. ...No, scratch that. But penetrable for sure.

Kano's not surprised to find out the agent he turned into stew meat was working to get to Shao Kahn.

Special Forces caught wind of a recruitment scam—Mortal Kombat's no scam, alright?—being run out of one of the Emperor's establishments and decided to send a man out to have a look.

Must've been sitting on the info, _and_ on the Black Dragon for a bit, to know the fight schedule.

To know the cage _should've_ been empty when he tried to have a snoop.

Lance sure wasn't planning on running into anyone down there during the day, least of all, someone who could match him blow-for-blow.

That he got in at all shows the exterior of the bar's obviously nowhere near as secure as it needs to be. It's never been a problem before. Everyone knows to stay the hell away. That the Black Dragon is invite only.

As shitty as it is to think it, it's probably for the best that Kabal was there to catch Wexler, even if it's what's led to all of this.

Otherwise, there'd be a Special Forces operation still going on, right under their noses, with the potential to make it all the way to the Emperor.

Now it's a murder cover-up going on, and it's Special Forces that's none the wiser.

“So what now, love? We shake on it?”

“You married?” Sonya asks, and _where the fuck did that come from_?

Kano doesn't answer in time, and she's decided, “Nah. You're definitely not the type. Girlfriend? _Boyfriend_?” Puts a little too much sauce on that. Little too much salt, too. Still, she's profiling him. Gathering intel.

“The hell're you asking that for?” Kano growls. Is this going in the official file, or the dossier with the lock and key that Ms. Law and Order keeps under her mattress?

“Who's the omega? And don't try to tell me it's nobody. It's all over you.” Sonya taps the side of her nose.

There's a very distinct alpha to alpha clash bubbling just below the surface. But there's also a male to female attraction Kano can't deny. He's always liked a strong lass.

It's a fight to keep his tone even, his temper cool. Not rise to meet her. Their day to lock horns'll come, and a little patience is gonna go a long way.

“Nobody for you to worry about.” Kano tries to sound like the perfect mix of complicit and complacent. Too much of either and she'll be onto him. “This have something to do with what we're doing here?”

Sonya explains, “Acting as a confidential informant for SF could be dangerous. I didn't know you had any attachments.”

She's right about the _acting_ part. The rest?

Kano just says, “I don't.”

“I just don't want anyone innocent getting hurt.”

First off, Kabal's not innocent. Works to his advantage, though, that Sonya immediately dismisses him on account of status. Omega? Can't possibly be party to this sort of shit. They're sensitive types, not bruisers.

 _Right_.

Second, Kabal is none of Sonya's business. He's none of Kano's.

Speaking of business, back to it. “I'm afforded some protection, ain't I? On account of the danger I'm putting myself in.”

“You get us Shao Kahn, you won't spend a day behind bars.”

“Won't spend a day behind bars if I'm up the river, dead, either.”

“Leave that to me.”

It's too quiet.

Sonya finally speaks again. “I'm not taking any chances, especially not knowing where Lance is. You can trust me, Kano. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal... deal sounds good, love.”

Better than Sonya asking Kano if he could be trusted and all.

Whatever crack Lance slipped through is nothing compared to the one Kano's gonna get through, and Sonya here is gonna make it for him.

 

* * *

Erron knows the more he's good at, the more money he gets.

But he's a heavy, an enforcer. Thug, if you like Kano's terminology, _and style_.

Sometimes Erron does.

Sometimes the consequences are a bit much for his tastes. He likes the action plenty; it's the collateral damage he could do without.

At least tonight's action is planned. It'll be the first _anyone's_ used the cage since Kabal tenderized that Agent Wexler, and Kano straight butchered him.

It's damn lucky the only person who saw shit is that weird little imp, Ferra, and all _she_ cares about is irritating Kabal. She's stuck on him like a fly on paper. A fly on something, anyway. It keeps 'em both busy, and does well enough to plug the hole of not having shit else in their lives for comfort. Not that Erron cares. He just notices is all.

It's more than a little odd Ferra's got an invite, though. It's awfully early for Kabal to be wanting to nurture anything—mother anything. Even so, he damn well knows better than to bring a kid to Mortal Kombat. She's here for something else.

Someone else.

And he's huge. If his fight's half as big as his shadow, well, it's gonna be a damn exciting night. Because, by the way Kabal's just patted him on the back, and where he's stood him and Ferra, he's _talent_.

Erron knows Kano had new blood lined up. Hasn't seen hide nor hair of him, yet, but knows he's entertaining someone for the Emperor, too. He's made plans to put on a bigger show than usual.

Erron doesn't know all the details yet. Just that it's some bigwig at a fancy high-tech company Shao Kahn is thinking of buying into. Lin Kuei something or other.

As for buying in? Buying out, is more like it. It's just how the Emperor operates. Become part of his empire, or dust under his feet.

Kabal's approaching, and Erron's instinct is to say, “I don't know where Kano is,” before he's even been asked.

The look on Kabal's face makes it clear he does know where Kano is. “He's on the way. With the _VIPs_.” Kabal smirks a bit. Doesn't look like he's about to keel over for the first time in good while.

As weird as it was to see him looking so sickly, it's weirder to see him looking even remotely healthy again, and knowing what it means. It _means_ he's adjusting. To having a kid. His body's adjusting to carrying one, at least. Yeah. _Weird._ Mostly that Kabal's _mind's_ okay with any of it.

“Right. The VIPs,” Erron echoes, but it's more for his own benefit than Kabal's.

Kabal nods toward Ferra, toward the giant. “She said her brother was a fighter. Holy shit. Name's Torr.”

Erron feels fit to point out, “He's big. Don't mean he's good.”

“We're gonna find out.”

“We sure are.” Erron can't argue with that.

Erron moves to patrol the cage. Only hovers over any one area of the crowd long enough to see if anyone gets jittery. Moves on when no one does. Means everyone's here for the right reason.

The mood's getting rowdier, the closer it gets to starting time.

When Kano finally shows, he's got two men at his side. Ketchup and Mustard, by their attire. Suits. Black on black. Red tie, yellow tie. Well, they'll be easy enough to pick out if things go south.

Kano's pointing around, and they're all nodding, here and there. Mouths are moving, but Erron's too far away to hear what's being said.

It'd be hard, even if he was right on them, given the roar everyone's let out, seeing the giant—Torr, was it?—get into the cage.

Still, it'd be rude not to introduce himself, Erron figures.

He walks up on Kano, as Ketchup is saying, “I have a hard time believing the cream of the Emperor's crop started here.”

Well, there's a lotta separating wheat from chaff, Erron thinks. He doesn't say anything, though. It isn't his conversation to have.

Lotta separating wheat from chaff, and _joints from sockets._

Because Torr ain't just big. As expected, he can fight. The crowd loves it, too.

They aren't real root-for-the-underdog types, after all.

Hope Kano lined up a lotta chaff, because Torr's making real quick work of them all. Next time they'll tell him to slow it down a little. Because there's definitely gonna be a next time. Kano's absolutely gonna have him back.

“Gotta separate the wheat from the chaff,” Kano says, and ain't that creepy?

It should be more reassuring to know they're thinking the same thing.

It's not.

“You can't expect me to believe you didn't just line up a bunch of hacks for your behemoth to pummel,” Ketchup scoffs.

“Size ain't everything, mate.”

“Sektor,” Ketchup corrects, and he sounds too sore about it.

“But if that's what you're all about—” Kano's hinting at something.

Kano never fails to excite. _Fails_ fails sometimes, though.

Ketchup—make that Sektor—shares a quick glance with Mustard. Neither says anything out loud, though.

Don't judge by appearances and all, is what Kano's getting at. Or something. It's what's come to Erron's mind, catching a glance at Kabal, and Ferra, in way too close to him. She's mumbling something or other and all he can make out is, “Torr” this, and verbs of violence to go with it.

He manages to catch Ferra saying, “You not look so bad now.”

Kabal just groans and nudges her away. “Just watch the fights.”

“Torr gonna rip him face off and take it home.”

“Personal space, _fuck._ ”

Kano'll probably stop the action before anyone gets skinned, kid. Just barely, but he'll do it. His own transgressions notwithstanding, he runs a pretty clean fight.

Unless he's too busy entertaining guests.

Kano's just laid out some bait for Sektor. “Occurs to me, if we're gonna be doing bizzo, we're gonna have to see how the other half lives.”

“That is for the Emperor to decide. You matter nothing in this.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“An apt question. But if you're in need of a real fighter to test _that one's_ mettle—”

“You volunteering...?”

Erron's heard worse propositions. Worse, and much less timely.

They could make use of some fresh meat, because the man in the cage with Torr looks about tapped out. Was doing well to dodge Torr for a bit and got the crowd excited. He's lasted a lot longer than anyone before him.

Then Torr lands all of one hit and drops him like wet cement.

Now, he's scurrying for the chain link like he's got a mind to escape. Blood around the nose and mouth. His nose could be broken, could be a couple loose teeth. Could be both.

All eyes are on him, and there's boos, over his perceived cowardice. Everyone else took their beatings like they were supposed to, and all.

He's got other plans, it would seem. Fumbles for something on the ground, at the cage's edge. He's reaching for something to even the odds. Something he can use as a weapon. Broken glass'll have to do. Enough bottles get chucked at the cage during the matches for a shank.

Well, they don't take an intermission to clean. Come on.

This fighter's not the first fella to try this shit, either.

Kano must notice what's going on; hell, Erron did. But he's not gonna call it. Action's too good to put an end to it now.

No one wants to see a match end in a draw. Shit's not over until there's a winner. Truces are a sucker's game.

The man springs up, broken bottle in hand and gets in a good slash across Torr's chest. Not too deep, but now he's bleeding, too.

And Ferra's taken off. Kabal's plenty fast, but she's faster, and he just misses snatching her before she runs at the cage. It's locked, because of fucking course it is. Every yahoo in the crowd who fancies himself a fighter would be rushing the cage if it wasn't.

She's shouting, “Him fight dirty! Torr, smash!” and trying to climb the chain link. Doesn't seem to give a rat's ass it's wrapped in barb wire up top. Guess she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

It's Kano that grabs her around the waist and plucks her off the cage and the roar it elicits from Torr is beyond guttural.

He doesn't give shit-all about the match anymore. He charges the cage gate from the inside, snaps the chain holding it shut, and knocks the gate plain off its hinges.

“Put her down, Kano,” Kabal warns, and luckily, Kano obliges.

“It's over, mate,” Kano tells Torr, way too damn casually. Gives Ferra a shove toward her hulk of a brother and steps right in between Torr and his opponent.

Kano pushes at the man. “Nobody fights dirty in my cage. _Without_ me knowing about it first. Get the fuck outta here.”

Man stands firm a moment, like he thinks he can protest. Well, it's that same devil-may-care mindset that made him think he could take on Torr.

“We'll give the Emperor your regards,” Sektor says, suddenly. It's syrupy, and creepy, his tone. “And escort  _him_ out.”

“This?” Kano's amused. “This is just some good, clean fun got a little rowdy. We don't need any favors.”

“Good thing this isn't one.” Sektor's cooking something up.

If he's looking to recruit, well, you think he'd be trying to poach Torr, not the fella who took a cheap shot just to stand a chance against him. Even if it was clever. It was also probably his only move. He's either on his way to the top with ol' Ketchup and Mustard, or the bottom of somewhere real deep.

Or gotten himself into the middle of whatever those two are really about. That's probably worst of all.

Erron doesn't have long to think on any of it—the hell does he care about some two-bit jobber, anyway—because Ferra's shouting, “Torr win!” Seems like she's only got one volume—loud as balls—unless she's talking to Kabal. “Him cheat! Can't beat Torr for real!”

Kano matches her volume, announcing, to everyone, “ _Nobody_ won!”

The crowd's got a response to that, and it's hisses and boos. They'd been too quiet up until then, waiting for a decision.

“Show's over!” Kano roars back to the audience.

The chorus this time is even more bottles being tossed toward the cage. Toward anything and _anyone_ near it. Some break, some don't, but everyone near the perimeter's a target.

“Empty it out!” Kano shouts.

Erron's already firing at the ceiling, and Kabal's giving him a nod. He's not armed, but he's also not above using the hose on the crowd if he has to.

Kano turns to Torr, amidst the chaos, and offers up, “You want a job, mate? You start now!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Wexler is from Defenders of the Realm, and Lance is from the original comics, way back.  
> There is no reason for adding Ferra or Torr to this. I just love them. Her speech and his lack of speech—language barrier? Trauma? Both? We'll see. It's weird to write them as human, since they're so mysterious and didn't make the roster in 11 to get more depth. Still salty.  
> Speaking of speech (I make sentences good) I noticed Erron's accent in 11, but rewatching him in X showed me how much heavier it is in 11. I don't know if it was done to emphasize “young” Erron. I know accents fade with time, but approximately 25 years, when dude is 180-plus? Don't really see that having a massive impact.  
> But it made me realize I've written Erron to the thicker accent. And given him feelings. Erron gets a feeling, and Kano gets a feeling, and Kabal gets a feeling. Everybody gets a feeling. I'm fucking Oprah up in here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've ditched the chapter titles because I'm just not clever enough to come up with one each go round. Whoops.

It's usually a good feeling, that sense of the Black Dragon being key. Clutch. Being sort of the center of the universe for Kano, and important to the Emperor's business. As often as Kabal and Erron—and now Torr, and Ferra, too—spend there when they damn well don't have to, he knows he's not the only one who sees it that way.

Sonya, on the other hand, needs to mind her own fucking business. Problem is, Kano is her business now. Made nice with her and agreed to be. But she needs reminding of her place. That this confidential informant stuff means he gives the info he wants, when he wants, and where he wants. She'll get the goods on her dead partner. Eventually. She doesn't even know he's dead yet.

Eventually, remember?

Except, Sonya does know. Suspects, at least. She's damn _suspicious_ , now. Worse, she's taken to snooping, like Lance did. She's also damn lucky it's the one day, pretty well _ever_ , that Kano's the only one at the bar when she shows up. More like, when _he_ shows up and she's already there, poking around the exterior.

“Can I help you, love?” He's impressed he managed that over the, 'what the fuck do you think you're doing here?' in his mind.

Thought this informant stuff was supposed to preserve his anonymity or something. Sonya keeps showing up at his place of business, there's gonna be problems. At least she's plainclothes today, and it's leather. Rolled up on a bike. Her body's passable, in more ways than one. But she's law, and always will be.

“Tell me about Mortal Kombat,” is all she says.

Someone's been burning the midnight oil.

“Dunno what you mean,” Kano lies.

“The hell you don't.”

“Thought you were looking for your man,” Kano pauses and pretends to search for the name in his memory. “Lance...?”

“I am. And he was looking into Shao Kahn's recruitment scam.”

“Emperor's a real savvy businessman. He comes upon new blood lots of different ways.” Kano's not lying.

“I'm interested in the one Lance was interested in.” Sonya kicks at the dirt, near the newly barred, but forever painted over basement windows. “Full basement? What do you all use it for?”

“Private parties.”

“I bet.”

“You think your Lance was _here_?” Kano dares to ask. If it's where things are going, why postpone it?

He's gotta admit, it'll be nice to have things back to normal. Nice to actually have a shot at Kabal, now that he's past the sneering and puking stage of being preggo. Looks beyond fuckable, for the few times they've crossed paths, and it's taken all of Kano's reserve not to just ravish him, each time.

To do worse, and shove him off, like a leper or something.

Sonya's talking again. “So, how's it work? Something in the booze? Then you soften 'em up downstairs?”

Kano laughs. It's actually funny how wrong she is. “Black Dragon's no Shanghai operation.”

Sonya's pissed, and offended over being wrong, but she believes him. Well, why shouldn't she? It's the truth.

Kano shrugs. “Everyone who works for the Emperor chose it. Likes it. Doesn't wanna leave.”

“Then why would you agree to snitch?”

Kano has to admit, “That's a good question, isn't it?”

Sonya decides, “Someone's got something on you. You wouldn't have agreed to cooperate with me if you weren't planning something.”

Nobody's got anything on Kano, alright. He's planning something, sure. He always is. But nobody's got anything on him.

“If you want out, I can help with that. If you're looking to use SF—use _me_ —to take down your boss and claim his empire for yourself, you're gonna end up dead.”

It's a rumbling chuckle Kano lets out, as he says, “That'd be awfully ambitious of me.”

“Awfully stupid, especially with a child on the way.”

Kano's taller, broader, and towers over Sonya, but she's every bit the alpha he is. He's reached for the carrot she dangled, rather than call a bluff, and he's still too enraged to realize it.

Sonya's self-congratulatory, _smarmy_ , as she insists, “I knew _he_ meant something to you.”

It's electricity, and fury, and neither of them is going to back down. It's also clear this isn't the first time she's snooped around here, and this isn't the only place she's been snooping. If Kano finds out Sonya's come anywhere near Kabal, she's gonna be begging for an end as merciful as Lance had. He's not gonna fuck it up and make it quick. He'll take his time with her.

“You wanna see what's in the basement?” Kano's flat, cold, when he finally speaks.

He and Sonya don't back away from one another, though.

She's no-nonsense, no-hesitation. “If it's what I think it is, I do.”

“You wanna know about Mortal Kombat?”

“That's right.”

“You wanna know what happened to your partner?”

“You're damn right I do.”

“One way for you to find out if it's all what you think it is, love.”

Sonya starts to follow Kano to the Black Dragon's doors. He stops her.

“No. Not today,” Kano's firm. “See, our private parties are invite only. Now, I can get you an invite. But you're gonna have to wait until the next party.”

Sonya wants to know about Mortal Kombat, Sonya's gonna know about Mortal Kombat. 

* * *

Things aren't back to normal—that shit doesn't exist within the Black Dragon's walls—but they've calmed down. Everyone's settled into a pattern. There's a rhythm to things, or something. Word's spreading—within the right circles—about the Goliath at Mortal Kombat, and every deluded David in the city is vying for a chance at Torr. Sektor and his right-hand man, Cyrax, show up to watch with a frequency that's more than just coincidence. Usually end up talking to, and _leaving with_ at least one of Torr's opponents. No one's beaten him yet, or asked for a rematch. Probably because those who've held out the longest end up with Sektor and Cyrax. Used to be the Emperor got first crack at the best fighters. It's weird he's okay with this arrangement. Shao Kahn's gotta be in on it, somehow.

Erron hasn't seen any of those fighters since. Not back at Mortal Kombat, at Outworld, or anywhere around the neighborhood. He tries bringing it up to Kano and gets told he's being paranoid. It isn't the only thing that's got him suspicious, though. Kano's been scarce, even for Kano, and he hasn't been spending his time on jobs for the Emperor, either. He's doing something off-the-clock and that's just weird. Because off-the-clock means free, and Kano doesn't do free.

He also knows better than to think Erron does, which makes it even more peculiar when he says, “Got a favor.”

First thing Erron does is correct Kano, “I think you mean job.”

“I know what I said.”

“What's it pay?” Erron presses.

“That all you care about, Black?”

Erron smirks. “Damn near. What's it pay?”

“It's action,” Kano offers.

Erron chuckles. “Damn well better be money, too.”

Kano's brewing something. Putting things together that don't mix well, like usual. Whatever he's got going on, Erron's pretty damn sure he isn't gonna like it when he inevitably finds out about it. Something that's gonna boil over and _he's_ gonna be expected to be part of the clean up crew, _like usual_.

Shit, they haven't even gotten that last mess taken care of.

They haven't heard another word about it, come to think of it. No one's been around above board, _or_ on the sly, looking for their man. That Erron's aware of, at least.

“Kano, what are you playing at, and how bad is it gonna fuck us over down the line?”

Kano just shrugs. “People get bored quick.”

“Yeah?” Erron agrees, but what the hell?

“Gotta keep things interesting.”

“Uh huh.”

“Two birds with one stone.”

“Spit it out, already.”

He finally does. Black Dragon's got itself another would-be interloper. It's a lady this time. That Wexler fella's partner. Kano's finally gotten in deep enough to ask for help, in his own way. Tried his hand at cooperating with her, but it went sour.

Well, no shit it did.

So Kano's had to put his money where his mouth is and deliver some real info to her.

Something suddenly occurs to Erron that he hopes has occurred to Kano. They're gonna need as many hands on deck as possible—people they can trust. But at the same time—

“Kabal?”

Kano practically growls out his refusal, “Ain't his fight.”

More like, Kano got him pregnant and can't admit that matters to him.

“He ain't gonna take kindly to being sidelined,” Erron points out the very obvious.

Kano nods, but then he smirks. “What he doesn't know, alright.”

Kabal damn well knows when Mortal Kombat is, and—“He ain't missing a Kombat night, come on.”

Kano gives a little snort. “He is if I got him another job lined up, away from here.”

“If you're planning on taking on Special Forces, you're gonna need more than just the two of us, and Torr.”

“Got it covered.” Kano pauses. “Might wanna keep it under your hat you don't like the Lin Kuei.”

“I didn't say that.”

Erron's neutral on them, to be honest. Mistrustful, but willing to overlook it, so long as they don't screw him over personally.

“On account of Sektor agreeing to lend us a few bodies,” Kano explains.

A chill trails Erron's spine over the words _Sektor_ , and _bodies_ together. Wonders if he'll finally see any familiar faces, though.

 

* * *

Kabal isn't sure what he's doing here, to tell the truth. That's not exactly new. But there's only so many varieties in his line of work.

Pomp and circumstance escort missions, and human shield jobs. The higher the pay rate, the higher the risk. The amount he's making on this job has less to do with risk, and a lot more to do with it being the little princess he's escorting.

Escorting Kitana wherever the hell she's headed. She hasn't said. Not that it matters. Because, yeah, it's a lot of money. It's a lot of money, and Kabal's glad he got wind of the job before Erron, or there'd have been some hurt feelings over who got it.

And who didn't.

Maybe a game of _rock, paper, scissors, hookswords, revolver_ to decide.

“I did not ask for you,” Kitana insists, staring straight ahead.

They're sitting right across from one another in the limo she's—they're—getting hauled around in.

She's trying not to look at him and ends up doing exactly that.

“Okay, so?”

What? _Did_ she ask for Erron instead? That sounds way the hell off. Asked for him and he turned it down? That sounds even more off. Erron, saying no to money? Yeah, right. No way in hell Kitana would have asked for Kano. There's no one else. It's just them, in terms of the Emperor tossing a job over to the Black Dragon.

“I have no need of an escort,” she continues.

She shouldn't, at least. Everyone knows she's got her own personal bodyguard. Keyword: personal.

Because everyone who knows she's got a bodyguard also knows there's a lot more going on between Kitana and Jade than business.

“Then what the hell am I here for?” Kabal asks.

“Ask my father.” Kitana wants to sound flippant, but is far too biting whenever she talks about the Emperor.

“Long as I get paid, I don't care.”

Now she's monotone, whether or not she means to be. “Did you really accept this job with no idea what it was?”

Kabal shrugs. “Money's money.”

“Money isn't everything.” She sounds so offended.

Offended enough Kabal figures he'd better remind her, “Easy to say when you don't have to work for it.”

That's got her dander up. “Some payments are not made in money. Not _taken_ in money.”

“You just aren't dealing in the right circles, then.”

Kitana crosses her arms. “I pity you your life.”

“You don't know shit about me,” Kabal scoffs.

Kitana really must not, though. If the Princess has noticed anything, she isn't letting on. Maybe she's just got a good poker face, or maybe she doesn't give a shit because she doesn't have to.

It's worth mocking, though, right? Especially after the high and mighty tone she's taken about greed. That Kabal is the type who really will do anything—risk anything—for money. And that it, apparently, includes his unborn kid. No way she'd miss an opportunity to rub that in his face.

Kitana just stretches her arms tighter across her chest. It's not defiance this time, though. She's guarding something. Trying to protect something. “And you know nothing about me. Do you understand?”

Right. Her Highness has just reminded Kabal of the fine print within escort and human shield jobs: the _you didn't see shit_ clause.

You didn't see shit and you better not _say shit_ about the shit you _didn't see_.

Yeah, well, he considers it part of what he's getting paid for, so he won't.

Wherever it is they're going, the _Princess_ doesn't want the lowly guard taking any mental notes.

Thing is, Kabal wouldn't have if she hadn't just said not to.

“Whatever you say. I'm just in it for the money, remember?”

“Let us both remember that.”

Kabal can't claim to know the Emperor well, even for as long as he's worked for him. But a complete stranger could tell that Kitana is nothing like the old man. Must be like her mother, not that Kabal has ever met her for comparison.

That would be because _she's_ been in a coma for the last two decades. He only knows of Sindel from stories. Has only ever seen her in a handful of pictures. Heard whispers of the accident that put her into the coma. Whispers that it wasn't an accident. That sort of thing.

But come on. If Shao Kahn wanted to off a person—any person—they wouldn't still be around twenty years later. In vegetable form or otherwise.

It's a long, quiet ride, until the limo turns off the highway, onto a private drive, and takes it all the way up to a set of thick metal gates with a dragon crest locking them together. They aren't stopped long before the gates swing open.

They cruise up to an old stone building that looks like it's missing its gargoyles.

Kabal's suddenly hit with something that's a cross between a flashback and a legitimate memory.

This isn't the sort of place a person wants to remember, especially now that he does. Sort of. Because if you ever really have need of someone like the _Sorcerer_ , you're pretty well fucked.

Kabal's never been to this place when he's not on the brink of death, but he knows this is it. Shang Tsung's Island.

So, it's not actually an island. But it's isolated enough it might as well be. Shang Tsung's not really a sorcerer, after all. But again. The way he's played Humpty Dumpty with Kabal, Erron, Kano, and countless others over the years—the nickname fits.

The place has him on edge and he's just here to babysit.

Probably because it's got him in his own head about how he should get a doctor for himself or something. No, not _or something_. And not _for himself_. Not just _for himself, definitely should_ , and _should have already done so by now_ is more like it.

Kabal can calculate well enough to have a pretty good idea when the kid's gonna pop. Doesn't need someone waving a goo-covered wand over him just for the hell of it, so he can get teary-eyed over some fuzzy picture that looks like a potato. Still, doesn't mean there isn't actually stuff to look out for. Risk factors, both regular ones, and the shit that comes with being an omega, IE: a dude.

The very shit he's been ignoring because he feels fine. Well, feels like he's pretty sure he's supposed to feel, anyway.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kabal asks, when the car stops, and he can tell Kitana's waiting for him to play gentleman for her.

More like, when he realizes that he zoned out thinking about goo wands and fuzzy potato shit and _fuck_.

He's still a guy, omega or not. Now, Kitana clearly doesn't know anything beyond that, and there's no reason to fill in any blanks for her. But yeah, Kabal is still a guy, and Kitana's still a chick. Above that, he's the hired help and she'll sit in the car all fucking day and glare if he doesn't get the door for her.

“ _We_ aren't doing anything here.”

Is she here for medical attention of some sort? Because the Emperor's daughter can sure as shit buy better than battlefield medicine.

Maybe not _better_ —Sorcerer's top notch at what he does. But it's an odd choice for Kitana. Kabal's got questions. More and more as the seconds tick by, but he respects the unspoken _don't ask_ buzzing all over her, and gets the front doors instead.

The building's clean, and cool inside. Open and empty for as closed-off and worn as it looks on the outside. Just as uninviting, but in an entirely different way than the exterior.

There's a redhead just inside the main entrance. It's clear she and Kitana know each other, but they don't exchange a word. She's more _security_ than receptionist, anyway. There's no front desk and sign-in sheet in this place. No water cooler and magazines.

No sign of life besides the redhead.

Well, this isn't a real hospital, after all. But there's gotta be more people around somewhere, right?

It's an elevator ride in silence, and a, “You will wait here,” once Kabal and Kitana reach wherever she's headed.

It's the room at the end of the hall on the top floor. What, or who is behind the doors is a mystery.

Until Kabal catches a glimpse inside before Kitana shuts the door. Sees the face that belongs to the body in the bed, hooked up to all the machines. And it's her. It's fucking her. The Empress. Sindel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitana and Shao Kahn are biological father and daughter in this hurr AU.  
> What else?  
> I know it’s part of the new timeline canon that Kano fed Sonya info on the Black Dragon, and she had no clue he was doing this as its leader. Until he made a power move that caused a lot of SF deaths.  
> I just feel like even if Sonya trusted Kano's info, she'd have run checks on him that gave him away long before he MWAHAHA'd. But then I remember I wrote this shit because I wanted to knock up a dude, so I should just stop trying to apply logic anywhere. Already went 'fuck anatomy', so...  
> But what was Kano's plan in-canon/pre-game for this? Did he think he was gonna pull his own Scooby Doo mask off and roll all of SF? He's fucking nuts, he probably did. Geez.


	4. Chapter 4

It's business. Really. And that's not at all how Kano wants a middle of the night visit to Kabal's place to play out.

No, he's not here riding herd. Checking up. He's making sure nobody else is.

That's why he's sitting in the middle of Kabal's living room. Kano's damn curious where the fuck _he_ is, though. Why the hell is it that, between the two of them, Kabal's the one not here? In his own damn place after 1:00 A.M.

It's not right.

He tells himself Special Forces doesn't have shit on Kabal, except that he's connected to Kano. The problem is that it's by a hell of a lot more than work.

Sonya got smart to that, and it's the reason for all of this.

There's keys jiggling in the lock and Kabal strolls in. He's casual as shit, and seems happy, for some stupid reason. Slurping at something in a giant paper cup, and holding an even bigger grease-spotted brown sack, as he kicks the door closed behind him.

Kano's up from the couch and all over him, demanding, “Fuck you doing out so late?”

“What the fuck are _you_ doing _here_?” is Kabal's retort, as he tosses his keys and shrugs off his jacket. “Didn't know I had a curfew. How did you get in here?”

Kano just mumbles, “Building sucks. No security.” That's answer enough.

It's the truth. So, it's goddamn good nobody's sitting on the place, and the only person bothering to look in on Kabal is Kano. Not that it's his responsibility or anything.

Kabal sits down. Sets the paper cup down on the coffee table but keeps that greasy bag close. He insists, “It was never a problem before.”

“That was _before_.” Kano gives Kabal a look up and down as well as he can. Stupid paper sack is in the way. Watches him dig a giant handful of soggy french fries from it and stuff them all into his mouth at once.

He manages to look good doing it, too.

“Before what?” Kabal dares to ask, through the fries.

Kano moves in, then leans down and over Kabal. Presses his hands into the already depressed sofa cushions. They're chest to chest, face to face, eye to eye. Kano's not quite straddling him, even if he wants nothing more than to do just that.

“ _Before wha_ —” Kano scoffs. “You know _before what_.”

He snatches the paper sack from Kabal's hands, from between _them,_ and lets out a chuckle over the pissed off expression Kabal's wearing. He peers inside the bag, even though he already knows what's in there.

Good. His own ruined mood's not enough.

“ _Hey.”_

“Roaming around in the middle of the night, for fucking french fries.” Kano shoves the bag back at Kabal and backs away. Ish.

Kano's plenty hungry, too, but not for some stupid shit _past_ midnight snack. Kabal's just so damn cool these days, and welcome. Welcom _ing_.

“What are you really doing here?” Kabal's just happy he's got his food back.

_Aren't we easy to please nowadays?_

Kano tries to play it off, and offers a too-nonchalant, “Got a job for you.”

“Okay. Did you really need to break into my place to tell me about it?”

So, Kano decides to let the other shoe drop. “Gonna keep you away from the Black Dragon a while.”

“That's fine.” Kabal pauses. Reaches for his drink and swirls it around a bit before taking a sip. Fiddles with the straw. Must be a shake or malt or _who gives a fuck._

Kano lets out a gruff, unneeded, “Good.”

“Wait, the job is? Or _you_ are?”

“Kitana likes you, don't fucking ask me why.”

Kabal cracks a smile over that. It's hardly even a smile. More of a smirk, but still, it's megawatt. He is. _Fuck_.

Kano realizes it's all wrong. Kabal's not cool; he's warm. Kano's just so hot that he feels cool. Feels like his perfect match, no matter what he's putting off right now.

The last piece in a puzzle Kano wasn't even fucking working at. Ready and set to slide into place, except as soon as he does, Kano knows it'll spring a trap and he's absolutely not having that shit.

He's disarming that bitch first. He's gonna take Sonya apart piece-by-piece if he has to.

Even if he _doesn't_ have to.

Kabal knows what a load Kano's fed him, about Kitana, at least. “Likes me? The hell she does.”

“Yeah, well, Kitana hates you less than the lot the Emperor usually sends around with her. _Boring_. Going around, waiting while she gets her nails done and whatnot. But I figure you could use some _boring_.”

“Thought that was a one-time thing.” Kabal reminds Kano, “Besides, she has a bodyguard.”

It's a fight not to react to just the suggestion of Kabal putting himself in danger. It's supposed to be just a friendly reminder, but despite his best efforts, Kano growls out, “You ain't her bodyguard. You ain't _anybody's_ bodyguard.”

“Then what the hell is this? Because if it's charity, you can stop that shit right now.”

It's far less friendly, and it's no reminder, when Kano warns, “Stay away from the Black Dragon.”

“Is that an order?” Kabal asks.

Stubborn shit's gonna force it, like he always does.

“You want it to be?” Kano asks.

Kabal's a lot less welcome when he addresses Kano. “You want it to be business between us? Fine, it's business.”

“I don't make the rules, Kabal.”

“But you get to enforce a lot of 'em.”

“No more of _this_ , either.” Kano gestures vaguely, to the crumpled, greasy bag. It's already empty now, anyway.

“What? Eating? Because that's pretty fucking important to sustaining life. And not just my own. Fuck.”

“Next time you got some weirdo craving at assfuck o'clock—” Kano sort of wishes that was a real time of day. More than sort of. Pauses too long thinking on it. Just tells Kabal, “Call Erron.”

“ _Get out_.”

Now Kabal's the one springing up, and leaning over Kano. Grabbing for Kano. That alpha nerve in an omega's body again. Preggo omega, no less.

They haven't touched in _months_ , proper, or otherwise.

Kabal's the hot one now, but it's ugly, and angry, and he's trying to shoo Kano away like—

Trying to say he wishes that's what he'd done _months_ ago, is it? Thing is, if that's what Kabal really wanted, he'd have just had it taken care of, right away. That's not his problem with this.

“I don't think so. I come over here, got work for you. Maybe a word on keeping your stupid ass outta trouble. And you think you're gonna tell me to shove off? _Give_ me a shove off?”

It's a mess of hands—like there's _so many_ between the two of them. But wouldn't you know it, Kano just happens to press one of his palms to the swell of Kabal's belly.

Kano just cocks his head to the side when it registers with him what he's just felt. Well, it's peculiar, but it also isn't. Brand new to him, but feels way too familiar all the same. All he manages is a bemused, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“You. Where the fuck do you think?”

“No shit. I mean—where's it come from all of the sudden?”

“That's how it works, Kano. You put the kid in here, it gets bigger, and then it comes out.” Kabal backs away. Unnecessarily straightens his shirt.

Was it so tight over his middle before? Well, there was the jacket when he first came in, and then the paper sack, and _who gives a fuck—_

Kano laughs. Just plain laughs over what a fucking moron he is. It all feels something like pride. It's not just his alpha pride—well, it definitely is—but that's not it. He extends his index finger toward the bump.

Gets told, “ _Don't poke_.”

“Yeah?” Kano smirks. “What should I do, then?”

“Just—” Kabal pauses. “Just don't poke.”

“Right.”

Alright then, he won't poke. So, Kano presses a little with his palms. He's big and not gentle—never fucking going to be either—and his hands eclipse the swell entirely. It's not so big, is it? But it's so obvious, now that he's seen it. Now he's just gotta see how much give there is, how hard he can push. See just what Kabal can bounce back from. See if he can keep his original shape through all of it.

“You, just don't be a shit.” Kano's talking to Kabal, even if that's not where he's looking.

Kabal replies only with, “I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, you did. You were fucking wrong, though.”

Kabal sounds tired now, but not so pissed off anymore. “Whatever you say, Kano.”

Kano's never consciously felt protective of anything besides his own interests, and it's unnerving.

Kabal's studying him. He's smart. Knows something's up. His eyes are narrow and he wants answers.

All he's gonna get from Kano, in words, at least, is, “Said it yourself: don't poke.”

 

* * *

Kabal's set to miss Mortal Kombat for weeks. To just plain be away from the Black Dragon, ' _Until I fucking say so, alright?'_ according to Kano.

Something's up and he's being exiled. He's smart enough to know why. Something's about to go down and Kano doesn't trust that Kabal can handle himself. So he's been loaned out to the Princess until further notice, and figures she's gonna be as happy about it as he is.

Because the first words out of Kitana's mouth when she sees Kabal are a shell-shocked, “Why didn't you tell me?” and she's staring.

 _Fuck_ is she staring.

Okay, so it's noticeable now. Not like _boil water and rip up the sheets_ obvious, but it's a legit bump under Kabal's shirt, _under his skin_ , and not just a list of signs and symptoms.

All the things to look for? Found.

He's not trying to hide that he's having a kid anymore than he is show it off. Which he isn't. But who gives a shit? Right. Kitana. As for why he didn't tell her? Because it's none of her business.

It does prove she didn't know last time, though.

Kitana blinks a couple of times, like it takes the edge off of her gawking or something. “I would have—” She pauses when she realizes she doesn't have an end to that sentence.

She would have _what_?

It takes her a minute to figure out something else to say, but when she does, she asks, “Does my father know? Does Kano?”

Kabal actually laughs over that one. “Yeah, Kano knows.”

“Of course he does. You two work together all the time. _Oh._ ” Now she's caught on.

“Don't worry about it, Princess. I can still do my job. Besides, nobody else is worried.”

Kitana tilts her head, just so. “Including you?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Won't do any good, at least. “Is there?”

She agrees, though she clearly doesn't like it, “Not where I am concerned.”

“Then?”

“Let us go.”

It's then that Kabal realizes there's no limo, like before. As if knowing what he's getting at, Kitana just points to a black sedan, with windows tinted about 40 shades past legal.

That covers the car.

“No driver?” Kabal asks, even though he's got a feeling where this is going.

Kitana offers over a set of keys, and insists, “It will be reflected in your pay.”

Just as he thought. He's chauffeuring now, too. Okay, then.

If Kabal had a snappy reply at the ready, it would've been cut off by a gust of wind strong enough to make Kitana grab for her headband, and make them both look to the sky.

It's suddenly so dark, and thunder rumbles somewhere far off. There's clouds swirling and swerving, like they haven't quite decided when or where to unload. They're going to. It's gonna happen.

The specifics of it all just aren't quite set.

“ _Kano, really._ ” Kitana's not really judging, she's just amused.

It's the first Kabal has seen her be anything but pissed off in his presence. She's not being nice by any means, but it's something resembling personable.

What's he gonna do? Not like he's gonna lie and say, _'he's actually a pretty cool dude once you get to know him'._

Kano's an acquired taste, at best. A hyper-possessive psycho with _who knows how many kills_ under his belt, at worst.

Kitana's opinion of him, versus Kabal's? It's an agree to disagree thing, _at best_.

There's more thunder. Just as low, and distant, and the air is cool and electric.

“I'd like to beat the storm, if you don't mind,” Kitana says, suddenly, sounding much more like herself.

“Maybe don't go out in shit weather,” Kabal mutters, but he reaches for the passenger door, to open and hold it for her.

Kitana's reaching for the car door, too, though. “That is not necessary.”

He reminds her, “Was last time.”

And _she's_ insisting, “It isn't now.”

Kabal tries not to sound pissed—offended. “I can open a car door.”

“As can I.”

“ _You_ aren't getting paid to, though.”

“Neither are you.” She slips into the car and shuts the door.

It isn't until Kabal is inside, in the driver's seat, that he can ask, “What exactly am I getting paid for?” Buckles in. Pretends not to notice Kitana's eyes on his middle again.

Key in the ignition, the engine rumbles.

“The truth?” Kitana asks, in a very... _testing the waters_ tone of voice.

“That'd be nice.”

“To make sure I don't kill my mother.”

Fucking shit.

Kitana continues without prodding. Well, good. Because what the hell is Kabal supposed to say to that? “It's why Jade is not permitted to accompany me to see her.”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Father trusts _you_ would at least keep me from getting away afterward.”

“You wanna kill your own—”

“Never!” Kitana sort of shrieks it out, as Kabal is backing out.

That's irony or something.

He decides to remind her, “You just said—”

“She is not alive, not like this.” Kitana shakes her head, then does that thing where she wraps her arms around herself way too tight.

“Whatever you say, _daughter_ Kevorkian.”

“You are _obnoxious_.”

“You say that like it's bad.”

It's started to rain and they're still cruising 30 MPH streets in the Emperor's territory. Shit.

Neither of them says a thing more until Kabal hits the freeway.

“You've been to the Island before.” Kitana isn't quite asking, but it's clear she wants an answer.

It's weird she's willing to speak to Kabal again, after the Kevorkian remark. He was sure he'd have the silent treatment for the rest of the job, even if that was kinda shitty of him.

Kabal would apologize, except— Well, lots of reasons. Mostly, he feels like admitting you'd like to kill your mom is way worse. And to someone who's pregnant? Pretty classless for someone who's usually so high on herself. Kitana's just lucky he's not sensitive. That her remarks haven't turned on the fabled knocked-up omega waterworks.

Besides, she'd just shit on the apology, anyway.

He decides keeping things on topic is for the best and says only, “Yeah, I've been. Once or twice.”

“I saw it on your face, before. When you recognized the place.”

“Right.”

“So you _have_ had need of the Sorcerer's brand of treatment.”

“Yup. Same as pretty much anyone else who works for the Emperor. Why?”

“I hear the stories. Of how Shang Tsung has saved so many lives for my father. The things he's done to earn that moniker— _Sorcerer_.” She sort of spits that out. “I was beginning to have doubts.”

“More than beginning to, if you're planning to kill your own mother.”

“ _Grant her mercy,”_ Kitana corrects Kabal. “And it's no plan. Just a wish I cannot fulfill, and certainly not so long as I'm tethered to some... ruffian.”

Kabal's amused, despite himself. “Ruffian?”

The rain's heavier the farther they get from the city. Wipers on full, windows cracked to keep shit from steaming up, and it's just miserable. There's an uncomfortable mugginess circling Kabal, but there's also a chill on the wind.

Kitana offers an unnecessary reminder. “Exit here.”

Worse, they've just left the crowd of people who can't fucking drive in a storm, in favor of a road that's somewhere between bean dip and quicksand right now.

It's barely wide enough for one car in each direction, so _fuck_ the van that just didn't do a thing to give them any room.

What else is even on this road? Where else could it even be coming from besides Shang Tsung's place?

Kabal's still thinking about that when Kitana sort of absently murmurs, “I thought you knew. I wouldn't have said a thing, otherwise.”

“Thought I knew what?” he needlessly asks.

“He keeps her alive for his own perversions.”

“Perversions?”

“Delusions,” Kitana corrects herself.

It isn't much of a relief. Least it means Shao Kahn isn't having conjugal visits with his comatose wife, though.

Probably.

Kitana tries to sound flippant as she explains, “One doesn't just wake from a twenty year coma.”

“Suppose not.”

They stop at the gates and it's just like before—open sesame, Big Brother is watching. All that.

The gates swing inward and they pull up to the front entrance.

Only this time there's someone there, waiting. Outside, but in close enough to the building that he's sheltered from the downpour.

Shang Tsung himself.

He looks more like a sorcerer than a doctor, that's for sure. Hair pulled into a short ponytail, and he's wearing a long leather duster.

Not like they aren't all a sight. The second Kitana and Kabal both step from the car, they're drenched, and the wet just makes Kabal's shirt cling, highlighting his already noticeable bulge.

“What a pleasant surprise,” the Sorcerer says, presumably, to Kitana. Except, he's looking at Kabal.

Yeah, that's not creepy. Not creepy at all.

Kitana's response is no-nonsense, and served without delay. “My presence should be of no surprise.”

“But I'm afraid I have some bad news. I think it's best we come inside to discuss it further.”

“What are you going on about?”

They step through the doors. It's deserted inside. Even the redhead from before is gone. The storm is sending odd patches of light through the windows, but it's not enough to see anything by. Feels colder inside than before, too. Or maybe Kabal isn't remembering it right, on account of being soaking wet and weirded out beyond belief.

“She is gone,” the Sorcerer says, simply.

“What?” Kitana asks, even though it's clear to all of them what the hell it means.

“I was powerless to stop it. Your mother is gone.”

To her credit, Kitana doesn't say, ' _why didn't you try to save her_?' or ' _did she suffer_?' She's flat, emotionless, when she insists, “I want to see her.”

“You misunderstand me, Kitana. Sindel is not dead. She is gone.”

* * *

This Sonya character Kano's been cooperating with is supposed to come alone. Erron knows better than to believe that shit. He also knows better than to believe _Kano_ believes that shit. Lady Justice has been working an angle on Kano from the moment she met him, the same as he has been on her. It's an alpha pissing contest at its finest. Except she's not trying to claim the Black Dragon when all's said and done.

She wants it to burn.

Erron's seen it before. Lived through it before. All sorts of attempts at the Emperor's throne. On the Emperor's life. Legal ones. Illegal ones. Hybrids.

Rivals trying to take on Shao Kahn using the courts. The law trying to take him down using a rival, or by dancing around their own rules.

One thing's for sure—it's those skirmishes with the law that go the worst. For all they preach about order, they don't practice much of it, when the chips are down.

Well, shit, why would they? That's when they're all sure they're about to win. When the law's decided they don't need to be civil anymore.

None of them has gotta try and go back and live in the home they burned out.

Or see those they scarred on the streets, knowing they should've just killed 'em when they had the chance.

Erron knows that the peace is only gonna last until the enemy's well enough to mount a counterattack, no matter who that enemy is. But there's just a certain unspoken respect between rivals, ya know? If not for one another, then the job, and a job well done, at that.

It's why the Emperor's territory is so well-defined, and most people leave him the hell alone and honor those boundaries. Sure, there's a few who die trying to cross the line.

And when Shao Kahn decides to expand? Well, he's always up for more hands.

This Sonya, and whoever she's working with? They're gonna die, or live to be a big ass thorn in the Black Dragon's side. No two ways about it.

Kano's got an ambush set up, either way. Shit's probably mutual. Sonya thinks she's here to take them all in. Meanwhile, Kano thinks he's lured her in with an invite to Mortal Kombat to take her out.

Erron's got no clue what bait Kano used to get Sektor and his crew on board, but he's here, too. Cyrax is noticeably absent, though. Seems _off_. Sure, there's plenty of times he, or Kano, or Kabal works a solo job—and hell, Kabal's not here for this fiasco about to unfold. But it does make Erron wonder what else Cyrax is doing that he's scratched for this job.

He could ask, but he doesn't care _that_ much. He mostly just hopes there's enough of them to take out the trash. One more man's not gonna be the difference, but it is curious that particular man's not here.

There's no audience for the action tonight, but there's still plenty of buzz in the air. As suspected, Erron does recognize the men Sektor's brought along. All two of them. But they don't seem to remember him. Wasn't like they knew him, not really. Just saw each other in passing, before they each took their knocks in the cage against Torr.

But now there's a hollowness about them, like they don't recognize _anything_. It's the sort of thing that'd give a person the willies, if he was the type.

The way they fall in line, and then just stare ahead, and only seem to listen to Sektor—only seem to _hear_ Sektor.

Spooky.

Dead eyes. Stiff arms. Like robots, or something. Like, if Erron cut 'em, they'd bleed oil or something.

Kano looks to Sektor, suddenly, and asks, “Where's your mate?”

“I beg your pardon?” Sektor looks all sorts of confused and it's funny.

“ _Pal_. Partner. Right hand. Cyrax. Thought you two were joined at the hip or something.”

“He has other business.”

“He too good for us all of the sudden?” Kano sounds too offended. He's wound too tight and been made to wait too long before he can cut loose.

“ _He has other business_.” If that ain't a _drop it_ , Erron doesn't know what is.

Kano feels like he needs to remind Sektor, “You just remember our deal.”

Hell. Kano's good for a lot, but negotiating a deal that doesn't sour faster than milk left in the sun isn't one of them.

“I've been promised a new recruit for the initiative. I'll not forget.”

“She's a choice cut.”

“She had better be. Or I'll have my choice of cut.”

There's no coin toss or arguments or anything of the sort over who gets to bring Sonya in when she shows. It's Kano's game, after all.

If she's scared, she hides it well by looking disappointed. Disgusted. They're a sad enough lot to be judged, but she can handle 'em. It's the impression she means to give. Worth her condemnation, but not her time. Except they are, or her ass wouldn't be here.

“Gotta say, I expected a better turnout,” Sonya taunts.

“Don't get discouraged, love. Nobody's got fans their first time out.”

Sonya glances around. She's counting. Kano, Sektor, and his two goons. Erron. “Although, it is a lotta muscle to take just me. I'm flattered.”

“Just you?” Kano calls that bluff in no time.

She doesn't raise him, though.

But come on. No way in hell Sonya doesn't have at least a partner, lurking about somewhere nearby. He's gonna be a _new_ partner, but a partner.

“Not man enough—alpha enough to fight your own battles?” Sonya's doubling up on the provocation.

Kano's eyes narrow and he lets out something between a growl and a grunt. Throws his shoulders back. Nobody comes into his house and suggests he isn't top dog. Disrespects the hierarchy like that. He may answer to Shao Kahn, but the Black Dragon is his, and everyone knows it.

Still, this Sonya... She is a spitfire. Surrounded, and a million ways to being fucked, but still standing tall. Tall and intoxicating. She's the kinda drink that makes a man upchuck and then turn right around for another swig from the bottle.

When he's got his wits about him again, Kano huffs out, “Right. You wanted to see what Mortal Kombat's all about. Can't disappoint the lady, can we?” He's still raw and all kinds of pissed off, though. Raring to go and sick of waiting.

He's got a damn impatient streak.

“Kano—” Erron knows he's gotta at least try. But he also knows it's only gonna be good for so much. That once someone gets a rise outta Kano, all bets are off.

Kano peels his shirt off and draws his knife. He's serious about this. Serious, and calculated. Last kill of his was quick, frenzied. Hormone fueled.

This inferno inside Kano here and now—it's something altogether different.

For one, the _accelerant_ ain't here. Kano's got his senses about him as much as he ever does. He's thought this through. If he kills this Sonya, and he sure looks like he means to, it's just that. _He means to_.

They can play at covering it up, but there's gonna be no hiding something of this magnitude from the Emperor.

“You think I don't fight my own battles? You wanna know the last battle I fought?” Kano reaches into his pants pocket with his free hand, snatches something from it, and tosses it toward Sonya.

Not as shiny or golden as it should be, but Erron recognizes it as Wexler's badge. Keeps his mouth shut about how Kabal had a hand in that particular battle. How he did a fair amount of the heavy lifting, by Erron's memory.

Sonya easily catches it and gives it a look. The moment she realizes what it is, and what it means, Kano's socked her square in the face.

Least he went in swinging and not slicing this time.

Sonya staggers back from the punch, but recovers damn quick, considering it was a hard hit, and dead on. She throws a sloppy hook back at Kano, with no hope of it connecting. It's an easy block. But she's got enough time to take a couple of steps back and shout something into her wrist. She's wearing some kinda comm device disguised as a watch, or built into it.

“Jax!” It's a go word, or someone's name—Erron's not sure which.

Hell, maybe it's both. It doesn't matter, because the response is gonna be the same no matter what: _reinforcements_.

Sektor's got a response at the ready for _that_ , and he's pressed something that looks a little too much like a detonator. It's the first he's said or done since shit really got started, too. Lurked in the goddamn shadows from the moment Sonya was brought in. Got all gun shy or something.

Guess it's not that surprising. His business is above-board and all, though hell if it should be.

Sonya and Kano stand at odds for a moment, until there's a big fella's coming in hot, headed straight for the action. Erron's hardly gotten a look at him, but he's dog tags and muscle, and carrying a sawed-off shotgun.

Sektor's men, all two of them, try their hand at stopping him. He straight smacks one upside the head with the butt of his shotgun and drops him. Then he aims the gun at the face of the other and gets zero reaction outta him.

He's a force, for sure. But he seems to be the only force. He's the only _un_ friendly to come at Sonya's call. So far, at least.

When she sees him, she calls out, “Jax!” again.

Definitely his name. Or code name at least.

“Stand down, or I shoot. I'm only warning you once,” is all he says.

Sonya tries to move forward to help this Jax out. He needs it but he also doesn't. She needs the help just as much. It means something that she cares to try, though.

Kano raises his knife. The tip dances awfully close to Sonya's throat. “I don't think so, love. You take one more fucking step and I'll slice you open like I did your _Lance_.”

She just looks to Jax, and nods. “We got a confession.”

“Ain't gonna do much for you unless you get outta here alive, is it?” Kano taunts. Then he snarls out, “What's the matter? Ain't he man enough to fight his own battles?”

The first of Sektor's men is sort of twitching now, where he fell after taking that whack upside the head with the less dangerous end of a sawed-off. There's a weird popping— _zapping_ —sound punctuating the jerking movements. He's not quite seizing, but something's wrong.

Second one isn't at all fazed by his comrade's state. Keeps on toward Jax, like he's trying to walk _through_ him, instead of just up to him. But he hasn't taken a swing, or even assumed any sort of fighting stance. Not so much as a cheap shot street brawler's posturing.

Jax adjusts his grip on the shotgun. “I said, stand down.”

Just as Erron's thinking on how Jax offered a second warning when he swore he wasn't going to, and how it's just such a good guy thing to do, he shoots. He's only got so much choice, though. Sektor's man is all over him, grabbing and pawing more like he aims to pick Jax's bones clean than put one in the win column.

Fella went from park to 5th gear with no grind. Like something snapped inside of him. Like someone just pressed a button or something.

Or something? Or _exactly that_. And _someone_? Hah. Sektor.

It's a close range shot, and it hits the man right in the middle.

It's blood and guts, but there's something like _wires_ mixed up with the rest of his insides, and there's no way in hell Erron's seeing that right.

The shot man's still trying for Jax, too. Wobbling toward him, sort of like a cartoon character that's walked off a cliff but ain't looked down yet. The type that'll keep on until he realizes he should've already fallen.

Maybe even after that.

Shit's just getting too weird. Erron steps up next to Kano, and tries to catch his eyes, hoping for some sense of—well, just some fucking sense.

They need to end this.

They share a nod. But soon as Kano and Erron share a nod, Kano's offering a nod to Sektor and he's pressing that button again.

“What'd you do? What've you got?” Sonya's the one asking, and _finally_ , someone else's taken notice of Sektor in all this.

Then the twitchy one on the ground starts really thrashing around.

Sektor says, “We should really take our leave.”

Twitchy goes still, and stiff, and flat, and it makes sense.

He's been rigged to blow, _from the inside out_ , and there's no stopping that countdown.

Sonya and Jax are a lot closer to him, but Erron's pretty damn sure they're all in the blast zone.

There's more zaps and pops, as they're all scrambling to get out. Erron fires a couple of shots near Sonya and Jax to back 'em off.

Manages to buy enough time for Kano to throw the chain around the cage gate once and snap the lock shut, with Sonya and Jax still inside of it. Won't hold 'em for long, but it doesn't have to, does it?

Kano lingers a moment, to have one last look into the cage, the sick fuck, and there's the distinct sound of a shotgun blast. Jax has shot at the lock and anything else close to it.

Then Twitchy blows, and _nobody's_ clear when it happens.

Who'd have thunk it, that the Black Dragon would go down in a mess of meat and guts and puppet strings?

It's not _down_ down, but it's shook. Flames lick at its broken bricks, while it belches smoke from its shattered windows. But it's still standing, at least.

Sonya and Jax have scurried off in the chaos. Disappeared somewhere between the blast in the basement, and the downpour outside. If they made it out. Erron knows better than to think they didn't.

Sektor, and Kano are both accounted for, and still kicking, somehow. Except, now that Erron looks at him, he sees that Kano's been hit good. In the fucking face. Shit.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time. Every time I caps my Shao Kahn tag. And every time it defaults back to lowercase. And it angers me too much.  
> If anyone wants to drop a comment with thoughts on Erron's presentation, I'm all for it. Been trying to write him pretty beta, so I have options down the line with him. To crank up his traits to one side or the other, etc.  
> Sektor is a fucking mad scientist but I lowkey love that about him.  
> Kano is such a pain in the ass. I'm a sick person who just plains loves him. Nothing lowkey about that.


	5. Chapter 5

****To say shit's a mess is an understatement. Understatement? Hell, that's wishful thinking. It's buzz, and chaos, and damage control now, at least. Nobody but Special Forces is on the Emperor's shit list for what went down at the Black Dragon, either.

Yet.

Shao Kahn's still too furious that anyone got so close to him. Got close, and did real damage. He isn't gonna go cutting down allies before the enemy has been dealt with. Kano's got a real shot at being public enemy number one, once that day comes, except he's slicker than a greased pig.

He'll probably figure a way outta what should be certain death, like he always does.

He figured a way outta a shotgun blast to the face. It wasn't a direct hit, but it was too close for comfort. He's gonna live with a cold, hard reminder of how close for the rest of his days. However many he's got left.

It's still weird as shit to Erron that they didn't take him to the Island for patching up.

Sektor stepped up and suggested real hard that they all head for Lin Kuei HQ, not just to lay low, either. He'd handle Kano's medical treatment.

_Because they had a deal._

“Is there some reason I can't see him?” Erron's asking, now that he's finally got a minute with Sektor.

“He's recovering from a major procedure.”

That's a load of bullshit. Even if it's the gods honest truth, Sektor's somehow managed to make a lie out of it. That's damn impressive of him, too.

Erron snorts. “That's one way of putting it.”

Sektor studies Erron a moment before he smirks and asks, “Is there some reason you care? Thought you were too mercenary for that.”

“Just wanna be sure that _procedure_ of yours doesn't include any extra bells and whistles.”

And that it doesn't end with a boom.

Sektor insists, “I have ongoing business with the Emperor. I'm not going to jeopardize my relationship with him by burning bridges with his associates.”

So, Kano hasn't been rewired and rigged to blow.

Probably.

Erron's about to get wind of Sektor's _ongoing business_ with Shao Kahn, whether or not the man wants him to. It's not necessarily chaos, but the _buzz_ just got a hell of a lot louder. There's a body being hauled by on a gurney, and Cyrax is the one escorting it.

Sektor offers Erron a last glance, and it's a hard, warning look. A _don't ask_ look. He just says, “I will let you know when he's well enough for _visitors_.”

Then he's up next to Cyrax. He leans over and touches at the portable equipment on the gurney, stacked all up and down both sides of the body. Sektor's looking dismissively at the body on the bed. Female, and he's looking through her, and not at her, like he's got a plan for her that was set in motion long before she arrived. Long before he or his company was so much as a blip on the Emperor's radar.

As for who she is? Well, it's a face Erron didn't figure he'd ever see again, and definitely not inside of this place. She's got a few wrinkles that weren't there the last time he saw her, and there's a mask over her nose and mouth. It's only natural she's aged. It's been twenty-odd years.

But there's no mistaking it. That's the missus. Shao Kahn's missus, that is.

Erron'd say Sindel isn't here for her health, but he knows that's exactly it. It is, and it isn't. Because this ain't no spa. It's no hospital, either. He's got no idea what the hell this place really is. Shao Kahn must, or he wouldn't have let these yahoos bring his wife here.

There's no explanation for why she's here, but now Erron knows why Cyrax wasn't with Sektor, with _them_ at the Black Dragon.

Other business is right.

Who the hell would've guessed it had anything to do with Sindel?

As soon as Sindel and her escort, led by Sektor, and Cyrax, disappear from sight, a shadow falls over Erron. No, not some figurative shadow. An actual shadow, and a big ass one at that. He doesn't need to look, but does. There's no words, but the shake of Torr's head is explanation enough.

Erron's gonna get an unneeded and probably disjointed as hell explanation, though. Just not from Torr. From the imp. “Him not there.”

Shit.

If they'd found Kabal, he'd be with them now. Wouldn't know heads or tails of what's going on, but he'd have come, especially on Ferra's urging.

It's useless to ask either Ferra _or_ Torr if they're sure he's not home, or where the hell he is.

Just because Erron isn't gonna ask doesn't mean he isn't wondering: where the fuck is Kabal?

Now just because he's _wondering_ doesn't mean he's _worried_.

It's weird, though. No way Kano would've sent Kabal on anything but an easy shit job. The whole point of sending him away was for his protection.

It's worked. Too fucking well. The keeping him away bit, anyway.

Erron hopes to shit he hasn't been picked up.

Between what's left of the Black Dragon, and his own place—shit's gonna be swarming with unfriendly types. People who've put two and two together and think Kabal's gonna be an easy target. They're wrong. But everyone's got a price.

Soon as they realize Kabal's price isn't Kano, but the kid between 'em, it's over. Once they realize they can't buy his loyalty, they'll threaten his cooperation.

Pretty unlikely anyone who's got anything to do with Special Forces is gonna have a go at legitimate cooperation, after tangling with Kano. They'll have to force it.

“Him okay?” Ferra asks.

Well, he's not the one who was shot in the face.

No use lying to the kid, so Erron just mutters, “Not sure.”

Torr seems to disagree, though. Seeing Ferra frown, he lets out something that sounds a little too much like a growl, instead of his usual _I don't give a shit_ grunt.

“We look again. Find him. Bring him here, like you tell we.”

“Don't get picked up,” Erron warns. “Liable to end up in the zoo, the both of you.”

Torr actually seems amused by that, and it's the first hint Erron's seen that he's got a sense of humor. Ferra still looks like a fucking kicked puppy and _ugh._ It bothers him that he feels anything off of either of them. _For_ either of them.

Giving a shit about other people is Kabal's bag, not his. And it's a real small one, too.

Still looking wounded as hell, but resolute, Ferra insists, “We careful. Them not see we, at him place before.”

“Hold on.”

_Them who?_

She knows what he means without him having to say it. “Them look for him not see we.”

That means something, at least.

Means Erron's instinct is right about SF, out prowling for them—all of them—since the blast. Probably out in numbers greater than _two_. That's still just weird as all get out to him. There's gotta be more to their gig than just Sonya and Jax, and that Wexler, who preceded them. Maybe _they_ were just the ones who drew the Black Dragon's straw.

Got assigned _that_ part of the Emperor's business to snoop around. Their little piece of Shao Kahn's pie and all that.

It brings Erron back to wondering what the hell got Kano thinking he could pull one over on Special Forces in the first place.

And why he shouldn't just be treated like a snitch. A backstabber.

Well, he didn't give anything up, when push came to shove. There's that. He was never really planning to. Probably. He'd jump ship for a bigger cut, a nicer operation—they all would. But none of them is _ever_ gonna go straight.

Still, even if the Emperor comes outta this all okay, the Black Dragon's done for. Blown up from the inside out.

That's ironic, or something.

 

* * *

Being on the Island is one thing. Staying here is something else altogether. It's sort of like having a look behind the curtain.

Kabal's sure the Sorcerer is for real, but he's got no desire to look into the man's bag of tricks. He respects Shang Tsung's skills. He absolutely doesn't need to know the details.

The Emperor trusts his skills, too. Correction: did. But does it end with Sindel? Or is _all_ of Shao Kahn's business going elsewhere now?

Either way, the Empress has been taken somewhere else for _alternative treatment._ Turns out Kitana just missed her. It was the most Kabal could glean from the shouting match between Kitana and Shang Tsung.

 _Over_ hearing that, all Kabal can think about is that fucking van they passed on the road up. No way he's gonna say shit, though. Kitana's wound so tight already, and it's just a hunch. Besides, it's not like they can go hunting for it right now.

In the middle of a flash flood.

It's not even an island, but they're more or less marooned, until the storm passes.

Kano's probably shitting a brick if he's shown up at Kabal's apartment, waiting for him to get home from this job.

He'll do more that brood in the shadows; he'll tear the place up.

There's a weird feeling like butterflies in Kabal's stomach over thinking about Kano. Only it's different. An unneeded but not necessarily unwelcome reminder that his body isn't his own anymore. But there's a sense of dread, riding on that flutter. He's still not sure he didn't just imagine it. The flicker of movement, that is.

The apprehension he feels is very real. Kabal hopes to shit he's just in his head about stuff and that nothing has happened to Kano.

Kitana's been allowed into Sindel's room. Whoever she's with now clearly didn't give a shit about her belongings. All the stuff Kitana brought with her over the years, in some stupid sentimental attempt to brighten the place up.

The Sorcerer's waving somewhere in Kitana's direction, but it has the feel of someone trying to swat a fly. He flippantly offers, “I'll find a box or something for you to gather up her things.”

Kitana mutters, “How thoughtful.” She runs a finger over one of the mementos. It's her own face in the picture. But she's admiring it, almost like she doesn't recognize herself.

Like she doesn't believe she was ever that young. Innocent. Might be an old enough picture that the girl in it still believed Sindel would wake up.

Shang Tsung adds, “In the meantime, I have other things to attend to.”

Interesting. There doesn't seem to be anyone else here.

Kabal knows damn well there's more to the too-empty corridors, and that the Sorcerer's got a steady stream of patients, even if they don't keep to a schedule. Never know when you're gonna get shot or stabbed or caught in an ambush, after all.

But this? It's the kinda quiet that means trouble. Especially if Shang Tsung's partnership with the Emperor has dissolved. If he's looking for leverage over the boss, she came right to his doorstep, and she's distraught as fuck.

The last thing Shang Tsung says, hand on the door knob, is a straight-up taunt. “I'll try not to keep you waiting. Although, it's not as if you'll be leaving anytime soon.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Then it's just Kitana, Kabal, and an empty bed. It's rain, beating against the windows, and medical equipment, unattached, and doing nothing for anyone, anymore.

When Kitana speaks, what she says throws Kabal for a loop, “There was a girl.”

“Okay.” It's not the _get out_ he was expecting. He was ready to be told to wait outside, like before.

Kitana's too distant to be pissy. Lost in some kind of memory. Kabal wonders what it's like to have any real recollection of this place.

She half-ass explains, “Even now, she haunts me. Father tells me I imagined her. That I was too young to remember what things were really like.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Kabal asks, almost on auto-pilot.

There's something sort of hazy about Kitana as she continues, “That I was just lonely and wished I had someone.”

“Someone?” Kabal echoes.

“I saw her once. Here. Visiting mother. Then never again.”

“The hell are you telling me this for?” It's an honest question, even if Kabal sort of feels like an asshole for asking it.

“You're right. Forget I said anything.”

They both look to the window. It's pelting. It doesn't need to be said.

Kitana opens her mouth, anyway. “I'm not fool enough to try my luck in a deluge. But make no mistake, the moment there is an opening, we leave.”

“Not the one making mistakes here.”

“I beg to differ.”

Well, that was a low blow. It's damn obvious what Kitana's referring to. It would be, even if her eyes weren't locked right onto Kabal's middle. Again.

When Kitana continues, it isn't at all what Kabal's been expecting, though. “Who in the world is going to take care of your child in your absence?”

He manages to keep it civil with, “Not planning to be absent.”

“Neither was my mother.”

That depends on who you ask about how things went down with Sindel. Either way, Kabal will indulge Kitana. Not that he should, the way she keeps talking shit. Something in him feels sorry for her.

Kitana's gonna push it, though. Make it harder and harder to sympathize, though, with every word she says. It's like she wants someone to tear into her and make her feel like shit. He's the only one around besides the Sorcerer, and they already went at it.

“I'm sure you've put a certain amount of thought into what you'll do without Kano around.”

Plenty. Kano's reckless as shit, and there's that fucking wriggling inside of Kabal again, just thinking of him. Although Kano definitely likes the idea of having an omega on standby, there's no telling how much he's really gonna be good for when they have a kid and aren't just _going to have a kid_.

“Have you thought of what _he_ would do without you? Without you, but _with_ your child?” Kitana asks, trying way too hard to sound innocent. Concerned.

Something along the lines of a cardboard box with 'free to a good home' scribbled on it.

Except for the free part.

“Take a good look, because _I_ am what the world will end up with.” Kitana's vicious, and bitter, and lashing out even though it's clear she wishes she was shouting this shit at a mirror.

Like a wounded animal snapping at the good Samaritan trying to free them from a trap. Except Kabal's not a good _anything_ and it's Kitana's own snare she's caught in.

He just snorts a little, and says, “Can't choose your family.”

There's a shuffling, scuffling noise outside, and Kabal and Kitana share a nod. Doesn't matter that they've just been sniping at one another. It's just understood: he's on it.

Kitana swings the door inward, and Kabal snags the eavesdropper and pulls her in. Because shit, it's a chick.

And shit, _again_ , because she looks just like Kitana.

She squirms and _hisses_ to get free from his grasp. Yeah, not until he's satisfied she's not armed. With one arm locked around her head, Kabal pats her down with his free hand.

Whoever she is, and wherever she came from, it doesn't seem like she's just stuck here until the weather clears. There's something _homegrown_ about her. Something raw, too. But not alpha raw—alpha females are rare as hell, and she's not one. She's just uncultured.

There's something both lilting and scratchy about her tone when she teases, “What's the matter? Your alpha done with you already?”

Kabal's holding her tightly enough, close enough she's figured it out. By feel, if she didn't trust the passing glance she caught when he yanked her inside. He tightens his grip out of spite.

“ _Oh_.” She gives something between a purr and a growl. “ _I'll_ keep you company.”

Not a _chance_. Kabal doesn't mean for his laughter to be mocking, but she's not his type. There's a part of him that really wouldn't mind seeing Kano lose his shit on her.

Trusting the woman is clean—no weapons, that is—he lets go and nudges her forward, toward Kitana. Shuts the door to keep her in the room with them.

The woman exaggerates stumbling forward, then snarls and actually bares her teeth at Kabal. Then the snarl becomes a creepy sort of smile, as she asks, “Was it good for you?”

“What in the world...?” Kitana sounds breathless. She leans forward a bit to get a better look.

She's noticed the resemblance, too.

No shit she has. It's obvious as hell. The eyes aren't quite the same—more golden than brown, and there's something serpentine about them. The mouth is way off, too. But it's still uncanny.

The woman is suddenly full of pleasantries, addressing Kitana. She offers some weird ass bow, as she says, “It's been too long, sister.”

Kitana's genuinely taken aback and not just putting on a show. “Who are you, and what are you playing at?”

“I am not _imaginary_. And I will not lurk in the shadows anymore. When you leave, I will go with you,” the woman insists.

Kitana looks beyond appalled. “That is absurd.”

The woman continues, “You saw me in the corridor and followed me. Then we were seen together and got in trouble. The Sorcerer took you back to _father_. You got to leave. You _get_ to leave.”

“What do you want?”

“I just told you!”

She's obviously aiming to get off the Island. What's more, she thinks Kitana is her ticket out.

If she's who she says she is, and who Kitana remembers—if they're one and the same—it just might turn out that way.

“I will have your name!” Kitana insists, and her tone is a little too _I'd like to speak to your manager_ for Kabal's taste.

“Of course. I am _Mileena_.”

* * *

 

Feels wrong to wake up after a hard knock and not be at the Island. Or at least be home sweet home after being dumped from there, still stinging and burning from the Sorcerer's touch. Glad for it, though, because it means you're still tickin'.

Tickin'. Yeah.

Sektor's got some shit to answer for, and it starts with what the fuck he was thinking, setting off a bloke inside the Black Dragon. Literally.

Kano reaches up to touch his face and there's tubes and whatnot, all along his arm, making it tough. But there's nobody's hand swatting his away, no one chastising him, telling him to leave his bandages be. Partly because there aren't any bandages. Partly because the person in the room with him doesn't give a shit.

He can't feel a thing, on his face. Or in it. What the hell ever. He can only see through his left eye. Finally makes contact and it's _metal_ his fingers are touching. All over the right side of his face. Where his forehead should be, where his cheek should be, where his right eye should be. It's smooth, and cool, and there's something like a slit in place of an eye socket. And eye.

Kano starts shoving, kicking at the sheets covering him, pulling at the tubes in his arm, his nose.

Sektor's on him in a flash. It's not much of a struggle. Except, any other day, it wouldn't be a struggle at all. He'd lay Sektor's smarmy ass out. He can sure as hell hold his own against a guy like that. Kano cut his teeth against much worse than a fucking mad scientist.

But Sektor's got him pinned down relatively well, and he's not bothering to call for anyone to help out, either. He's calm as everything, saying, “I will sedate you.” Then he pauses, but keeps his grip firm. “But—”

“Fuck did you do to me?”

“ _But_ I would much rather we discuss your new cybernetic implant. May I let go?”

“Fucking better.” Kano means to growl it out, but his words ride a weak exhale, instead.

He sounds so sickly. So soft. It's pathetic.

It's good Erron or Kabal isn't here to catch it. They'd have a field day.

Now Erron—well, he was at the bar when it all went down. Kabal wasn't. Because goddamn right he wasn't.

“It's just us, then?” Kano asks, suddenly, and at least he sounds a little less gone.

Sektor's backing off a bit. He answers, “Black is here.”

Kano nods. He's suddenly too aware of the fact that he's got half a fucking robot face and he hasn't even seen it.

Knowing Kano wants more information, Sektor adds, “He has your behemoth and that ragamuffin child out looking for Kabal.”

Kano barks, “Better fucking find him.”

“ _Your_ omega is not _our_ responsibility.”

Kano doesn't bother correcting Sektor, about Kabal. About him and Kabal. How there's no such thing. Doesn't really want to correct Sektor, if he's being honest. Even if he did, he hasn't got the fucking energy.

He's just _so_ tired. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his neck, and his head, and just wants to lay down, and he's _already_ laying down.

“My bar's your responsibility, since your shit ass blew it up,” Kano reminds Sektor. It's on-topic enough. Or so what if it's not?

“The Emperor will assign blame on all of this, no doubt.” Sektor turns and grabs a mirror. He offers it to Kano, but keeps his hold on it, too. He continues, “It's a step up from a glass eye, no?”

Kano tries moving his head to get a better look, like it makes a difference. It's a bad idea. Sends heaviness and pain all through his head. Decides on moving the mirror, instead. As he takes it all in, he grumbles, “Suppose you think I'm paying you for this?”

“In practical data.”

“Practical data?”

“Practical data is—”

“I know what the fuck practical data is. Wanna know why—”

Sektor smirks, the creepy shit. “We had a deal.”

“Don't remember this being part of it.”

“Well, you have suffered head trauma.”

“Bugger off.”

“A choice cut. Or my choice of cut. They—she got away, and you needed medical attention. So I made my choice,” Sektor explains. He's cool as a fucking cucumber about it, too.

Kano asks, “Did you put a little extra something in here, too?”

Sektor understands the question and responds immediately. “Of course not.”

Sounds like he's being honest, at least. Still. “Yeah. _Of course not_.”

Sektor insists, “I think you're self-destructive enough.” He stops for a moment, and he's looking amused over something. “Black asked the same thing.”

Kano manages a rough chuckle over that. “Bet he did. Can I see him?”

Sektor reaches forward, for the side of Kano's face. “Let's find out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stoked to see comments roll in. I hope the fact that Sonya's gotten more than one mention in a fic where she's a pretty minor character means I've done well with her and not that I've shat myself with everyone else.  
> There's been minor edit to seriously ONE SENTENCE, so it doesn't muck up my plans going forward. Carry on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for anyone keeping up that it's been a bit since I updated. Got in my head about dumb ish. The very same snippets of canon I've been so determined to adhere to are the ones that I'd have probably been better off going against.  
> Tenuous passage of time, and say the 90s setting/tech/lack of tech is the excuse for characters being incommunicado. Worth noting, but not gonna add as tags? I could, though. Might. Might have.  
> There's an extremely awkward passage with the tenses and I can't seem to work it out. Eventually. Or I'll just delete that section.  
> All in all, I feel like that dog in the meme where he's wearing a headset and it says 'I have no idea what I'm doing'.

“I will leave with you, or _as_ you. It is your choice.” Mileena sounds serious, even if her negotiating skills are trash. There's a dangerous kind of brightness in her eyes, and the occasional flash of lightning highlighting her features isn't helping her to look the least bit diplomatic.

Or even sane.

Kitana insists, “You are a lunatic, whoever you are.”

Kabal's waiting for her to order him to restrain Mileena or something. Haul her off to see the Sorcerer, so she can demand to know who the hell the woman really is, in that hot-and-bothered meets high-and-mighty tone of hers.

Except, there's no need.

The door opens and there he is. If he's pissed to see Kitana and Mileena together, or Mileena just plain outta the bell tower, or basement, or wherever she usually lurks, he hides it well. “Mileena is just very ambitious, and has been waiting quite a long time.”

“ _Sister's_ angry.” Mileena cackles. Then she smiles wide.

Kabal gets another good look at her mouth and finally realizes what's off about it. She's had work done. If she's got delusions of being Kitana's sister, and the Sorcerer's been catering to them, to the degree of changing her fucking face to make her look more like the Princess? Shit.

What's in it for Shang Tsung, though?

Well, money, probably. Maybe he sees some leverage in it.

But who is Mileena that she's got enough to bankroll something like this? Who is she that she seems to be in on that memory of Kitana's? It's all just way too weird, and even though the atmosphere couldn't be better for a fucked up mystery like this, the timing is garbage.

“You will stop calling me your sister.” Kitana's nose seems to wrinkle at her own words. Kabal doesn't know her well, even after spending this bit of time with her, but she's always sort of carried on like she's too good for all of her family.

It's Shang Tsung that responds, “It won't make it any less true.”

It's really not that far-fetched, the idea of Shao Kahn having an illegitimate kid. Hell, more than one. Even if his marriage was faithful while both parties were conscious, it's damn unlikely he's been celibate the last twenty-odd years. There could be any number of his bastard spawn out there. Some who don't want shit to do with an organized crime kingpin. Some who _would_ like a piece of the action, or to at least have their name in his will.

Mileena here seems to be much more interested in Kitana than Shao Kahn, or his empire, though. It's got Kabal curious about her mother. Could be her other parent's an omega. Call it the other half of the map, whoever it is.

Either way, it's creepy and sad, the way she's equal parts childlike and unhinged. She hasn't been here her whole life, right? That's just insane. There's no way.

“How is it possible?” Kitana asks. She's somewhere between horrified and breathless. But she's no longer in denial. “That this is the first I'm hearing of it,” she adds.

There's a crooked smile on the Sorcerer's face. “Because Mileena was never to be your sibling.”

“You just said—”

“She was to be your _replacement_.”

Kitana shouts, “Father would never—!” It's obvious even she doesn't believe herself, though.

So the feeling's mutual, between them. Never would've guessed the Emperor would take it so far as to commission a decoy. Hire out his faithful sawbones to fashion his little Princess's doppelganger out of one of his bastard kids.

The natural resemblance is strong, no doubt, and Kitana and Mileena are clearly very close to the same age, but shit—even identical twins have their differences. And twins, these two are not.

So obviously not.

“Who do you blame for your mother's _accident_?” Shang Tsung asks. He's baiting Kitana.

“It was no accident.” And she's bitten right _through_ the bait and into the hook just to feel it poke her.

“What has you so certain of your own immunity, then?” The Sorcerer's voice is both rough and smooth at the same time, now that Kabal has really had a chance to hear him talking. Thick like gravel, but they're _polished_ pebbles.

His point is clear, and it's true. There's no one Shao Kahn won't plot against. Biggest difference between Sindel, Kitana—his family—and a lowbrow hellraiser like Kabal, or Kano, is the amount of thought the Emperor puts into taking 'em out.

It reminds Kabal of the way Kano's been putting in time, lately. Because he's sure put some work into _whatever_ he's got going on. So he's probably in some heavy ass shit. Hard to imagine it's any weirder, or worse than this, though. He's done about as well at protecting Kabal—if that's even what he was trying to do—as Kabal is at trying to comfort the kid inside of him that's apparently just figured out it exists, and can move. He's surer than ever that's what it is. And _nobody fucking else_ is going to figure that out.

Nobody among this crowd, at least.

There's been more than enough ogling and curiosity and pity and wonder and just plain being treated like some combination of a unicorn and an infectious disease.

Kabal crosses his arms in front of himself, lower than normal. Maybe it'll fly for a gesture of defiance. Or boredom. Even if it doesn't, it's all he's got.

“Tell me, Kitana: does your father know you're here?” The Sorcerer's question is served with a smile. More bait.

“What concern is that of yours?”

Shang Tsung offers up some more _polished pebbles_. “It should concern _you_.”

“How so?”

“When the weather clears, the Emperor will surely send someone here. Whether they are tasked with your safe return, or with killing us all, however—”

Depends entirely on where the fuck Kitana told Shao Kahn she was headed.

“I've every right to some shred of independence. Privacy. To go where I please without being watched, every single moment.”

That's answer enough for Kabal. The Emperor's got no idea the Princess is here.

Kitana turns her attention from the Sorcerer, from the half-sister she's just found out about, and stares Kabal down, like she hasn't already done that a shitload of times. But there's an iciness about her this time. “I wish I had dismissed you the moment I saw—”

Saw he was knocked up. Pregnant. Bun in the oven. Living the omega dream. Hah.

 _She_ won't come out and say it, though. Won't admit she might be feeling bad that it isn't just her own death warrant she's signed in dragging him here.

Kabal's done feeling sorry for Kitana. “Yeah, well, you can wish in one hand and shit in the other.”

“Do you care _nothing_ for your life?”

“Caring's not gonna keep me from getting killed.” _Because of you._

Mileena lets out something that sounds like a purr. Sounds way too damn pleased, and her eyes light up. She looks to Shang Tsung. “Let us fight, Sorcerer. When they come. _Please_. You never let me have any fun.”

“Do as you will. I am no longer in the Emperor's employ, and you are no longer my charge. Merely my—” He stops himself, but his eyes catch Kabal's for a split-second before he addresses Mileena again. “Do as you will.”

Merely his _what_?

 

* * *

One thing about the Emperor—he doesn't care how a job's done, so long as it is. Especially if it's the likes of putting down a rabid dog. It's just too dangerous to leave a wounded animal be. That's when they get real snappy. Spread their disease out of desperation.

There's just too many secrets within the Black Dragon's walls to leave her standing. Turns out it's not a good thing the Black Dragon was hearty enough to stand up to Sektor's robot-man—or whatever the fuck he was—exploding in the basement.

Special Forces threw caution tape around the exterior but ignored their own warning. Big fucking surprise, them not following their own rules.

So sometime in between Kano losing his eye and gaining one that shoots a goddamn laser beam, Shao Kahn ordered the complete destruction of the Black Dragon. More than ordered it. It's done.

Erron's got a job of his own, serving notice on someone. Someone the Emperor's decided he's outright done with, unlike Kano, who's got more lives than a cat. Between crossing Shao Kahn and SF, he should be dead already.

The job should be easy money, but Erron's got a bad feeling about it. It's only two targets, fish in a barrel style. How'd the Emperor put it? _They don't get out much._

Erron knows one, but not the other, even if he knows the face in the picture he's been shown of her.

When he asked Shao Kahn what to do if there were any extra bodies on site—any loose ends—he was told, “Kill them,” like he was a dumb fuck for even asking.

He just wanted to be sure they understood each other is all.

Right. Anyone who isn't supposed to be there _is_ supposed to die there, along with those who _are_ supposed to be there, so it doesn't fucking matter who all is there.

Erron bids Kano farewell, or whatever the hell counts for that between the two of them, with, “Well, it was fun.” 

Kano doesn't look or sound good, and not just because of that hunk of metal taking up a quarter of his face. He groans out, “Ah, don't get soft on me.”

“I ain't,” Erron insists. “It was fun until you fucked it up.”

Kano laughs. “That's more like it.”

If Erron was wearing a hat, he'd have tipped it. He just heads off without another word.

Gets stopped, though, by Kano calling out, “Hang on.”

Erron turns back but hardly stops walking. “If I see _him_ before you do, I'll tell him you're just sick with worry.”

Sick with something, anyhow.

Erron'll pass it on, of course, if he's first to run into Kabal, but the chances of that are pretty slim.

xxxxxxx 

It's dark, and slippery, and it all just fits too well. Erron parks way the hell down the private road leading to the target's estate. Serves as his business, too. Serves as both his business and a reminder to Erron that it doesn't matter who you are to the Emperor—there's no walking away when he's done with you.

It's sticky, and sloshy, and each step he takes, it feels just a bit harder to pull his boots from the mud.

Even though he's still a ways off, Erron can see a car parked in front of the entrance. Looks like there's guests, after all. _Extras_ to be dealt with.

Erron figures it's best to trash their car—just in case _anyone_ here's got a mind to try and escape after he drops the Sorcerer.

First things first, though—confirming the doctor is in, and all that. Then there's lining up a clean shot, and then _there's just no goddamn way._

What in the fuck is he doing here? Of all places. Fucking here.

Security wasn't really a concern before, because Erron just needed to be close enough for a clean shot, and he was. Two clean shots. Shit, messy shots are fine, as long as they hit somewhere that bleeds a lot.

He can hit a moving target, no problem. Even one as fast as Kabal used to be. Might still be. Not that he's going to.

As for that _security_ business? Nowhere near the top or bottom of what's fucked this up. Erron's got a damn good eye, but the real Kitana is here, too, and hell if he's gonna shoot her by mistake.

No way the Emperor knows she's here, or he wouldn't have ordered everyone on-site scrubbed with the flick of his wrist.

There's usually something to be said for having a man on the inside, but to hell with this. Looks like Erron's just gonna have to do this all the ugly way.

He _could_ just walk in the front door, he supposes. Nice and direct. Not like Shang Tsung should be expecting there's a price on his head, right? Erron can feign he's got someone with him, someone that needs tending to.

He's storming a battlefield hospital for half-dead thugs, after all. Dumping ground for the ones who don't survive the Sorcerer's ministrations and end up _dead_ dead.

He's barely in the door and it's Kabal that's on him, quick as ever. What's more, he's looking like he means to defend everyone else, the dipshit. He's planted himself right in front of Kitana like he's here on her account.

She's stepped out from behind him almost immediately and given him the absolute dirtiest look, though. Then she hisses, “ _You will not_.”

Kabal ignores her ass, but backs off a touch when he recognizes Erron. Just asks, “ _You_?”

“The hell do you mean, me?”

“What are you doing here, Erron?” Kabal blinks a minute and there's something like hope looking for a spot on his face. Well, that's just never gonna fit. “Kano? Is he out there? Did something happen to him, or...?”

“What's it look like I'm doing here?”

“Dunno. That's why I asked. Did something happen, or are you _working?_ ”

“Well, those two things ain't exactly mutually exclusive.”

The doppelganger—pretty damn good one, Erron's gotta admit—slithers in real close to him and purrs. “You're the one father sent to kill us all? Can't we have some fun first?”

He tries his best not to react, and is pretty sure he's avoided it, for the most part. But what the hell?

Does she wanna spar or is she fishing for a screw?

“Don't mind Mileena,” Shang Tsung offers, way too coolly. Easier said than done, especially after she trails a hand down Erron's chest and tries working her fingers in between a couple of his shirt buttons.

Kabal and Kitana are both wearing expressions that say, 'seriously, don't mind her' and 'don't fucking ask' and that's just weird.

Still, Erron assures the Sorcerer, “I won't.”

Shang Tsung cocks his head to the side. Quirks an eyebrow. Then he finally spits out what's obviously been on his mind for a bit. “Mileena does raise a valid point, though. You're not wounded. You've no need of my services. Which means you know I've been dismissed and are here to make it official.”

“Yup.”

“You're well-armed. I'm not.”

“Yup.”

“Quite a crack-shot, are you not?”

Could've taken everyone from outside, yeah.

“Yup.”

Then what the fuck's the holdup, right?

 

* * *

Kano left Lin Luei HQ as soon as Sektor allowed it. Which was definitely sooner than Sektor wanted him to, from a medical standpoint, anyhow. Things must be getting nasty with such a hot one on his hands. Or hot, with such a nasty one on his hands. Sektor must be worried that keeping a bloke like Kano so close might make him look a certain way to the Emperor. Party to his sort of antics and all that.

So he gave Kano the once-over, and sent him off with a load of plain white pills in plain white bottles.

Pansy shit.

But not before reminding Kano about their _practical data_ arrangement, of course, and how it's gonna involve live demonstrations for potential investors from time to time.

How cybernetic implants require certain maintenance—upgrades.

How they're in bizzo now, whether they wanna be or not.

It's made Kano useful, and in a line of work where a man's usefulness directly affects his longevity, he's not gonna gripe. Too much.

He knows he's gotta get back at it, and the sooner the better.

Kano knows that without the Black Dragon for a homebase, and Mortal Kombat as a steady source of income—a secure place within the Emperor's ranks—he's gotta get back to the grind.

Sure, he still did the odd weapons deal, here or there, even when Mortal Kombat was flush. Lots of meetings in warehouses by the port, with crates, and pallets, and pineapples on top of _pineapples_.

Dick measuring contests over who had the biggest entourage.

Show us the briefcase, we'll crowbar a crate.

Load a magazine and stroke it a bit.

Finger and sniff at a stack of bills.

It's heaps of posturing, even when it all goes well.

It's heaps of _fun_ when it doesn't.

Kano supposes that's part of the draw of his game with Sonya—and no, it's not over. Just in a bit of a delay. Called on account of the rain.

On account of injury if he's being honest. Except convalescing's for mugs.

It's dust, sparseness, neglect, the place Erron's lined up. Well, he's no home decorator. He's no _homebody_. He's a shit host, even if nobody _really _lives here. He's a grumpy fuck, too, on account of the job he's just back from, but he's got the goods on Kabal, at least. Won't say _how_ , and acts like he's got the authority to tell Kano he's not fit to go out after him.__

____

Erron insists Kabal's on the way over, he'll get here when he gets here, and Kano's gonna keep his pants on until then.

____

He gets a soft, “Fuck off, Black.” But there's really nothing behind it.

____

Erron adds that Kano better keep his pants on _after_ Kabal shows, too. So he doesn't have to take a match and kerosene to all of the furniture.

____

Kano feels an itch, over the fucking awful couch, and how he needs to be anywhere but on one, doing nothing. “Like this'd be a loss. Be doing you a favor.”

____

Erron just stomps off, swearing about how, "It's a safehouse, not a goddamn bordello.”

____

xxxxxxx 

Fever's funny, the way it makes time start and stop. Blurs quick and slow, hot and cold. Mixes all the senses together.

____

Has Kano seeing shadows that look like people, crossing here and there. Small, medium, and large. Doesn't need to do more than crack his good eye open to know who they each belong to. To know that none of them belongs to Kabal.

____

Hears Erron and Ferra talking, and Torr grunting along, when they think he's asleep. Smells when they bring in take-out and he just wants to upchuck. Least they know better than to offer him any. Or suggest he move his ass to a different room if he's got a problem with it. They don't even fucking notice and it's fine.

____

Until there's four shadows, and then just one again.

____

Kano hears a snort and feels the couch cushion sink next to him. It's enough to knock nausea through his guts and pain through his head. “You're a real piece of shit, Kano.”

____

“Still like to hear it now and again, though.” He turns his head, real slow, and studies Kabal with his left eye. There's hardly any light and it's still too bright.

____

“What the hell happened? Erron said—Erron said some shit, but he only said so much.”

____

Erron's blunt as it gets. Whatever he's told Kabal—he didn't spare any words, but he also didn't add any.

____

“He said you got shot.”

____

It's the truth, but Kano scoffs, “Gonna take loads more to drop me.”

____

“And that the Black Dragon's been blown up. _Twice_. And that I can't even fucking go home because there's cops crawling all over my place looking for a way to get to you.”

____

“Nah, there's no cops.”

____

Kabal calls bullshit on that one. “Really?”

____

“SF aren't cops.” It's flimsy and Kano knows it, arguing semantics.

____

“They're after the same thing, right?” Kabal pauses. “It's why you cut me off, isn't it?”

____

“Yeah. So, where the fuck have you been? Supposed to be twiddling your thumbs while Kitana gets her cunt waxed, and you went and dropped off the side of the planet.”

____

Kabal doesn't answer, and it's clear he's hiding something.

____

“So, where were you?” Kano asks again. “Weren't with her the whole time, were you?”

____

It's way too damn quick how Kabal insists, “Don't worry about her.”

____

“What should I worry about then?”

____

Kabal leans forward, starts studying at Kano's face real close. His eyes are narrow, and he's got an arm slung over the back of the couch. He tucks his leg in and turns so he's facing Kano dead-on. Shifts his weight and leans in even closer. Stares even harder.

____

Judgy fuck.

____

“So, what's the deal with this thing? You got x-ray vision now? Can you shoot laser beams?” It sounds like a mix of curious and _furious_ , Kabal's tone. Then he reaches for Kano, and traces a line around the cybernetic implant with his fingertips. His touch feels cool, and soft, and the pity's clinging to him tighter than his shirt.

____

It's plenty tight.

____

“As a matter of fucking fact—” Kano's voice trails off. They can both pretend it's because Kabal's taken to brushing his knuckles against where Sektor—or whoever—shaved a patch from Kano's head. Left a smooth line from just behind his right temple, all the way around the ear, to the base of the skull.

____

“You're running a fever.” Kabal palms his forehead.

____

“Maybe I'm just happy to see you.”

____

“So you must have an infection.”

____

“I know what'll make me feel better.”

____

“You really think you're up for that?”

____

“Try me.”

____

Kabal bites his lip. Just looks pissed, though. If he wants his lip, or any part of him bitten, though— Then he breaks and smirks. It's obvious he still isn't sold on the idea. He can see the sickness, the weakness on Kano's face and he's hesitating.

____

“S'fine,” Kano insists, and tries sliding his hands under Kabal's shirt and shoving it upward.

____

Kano gets rejected by Kabal's hands tightening around his wrists the moment he feels warm skin underneath his palms.

____

“Fuck's the problem? You shy all of the sudden? I put _that_ in there.”

____

Kabal keeps hold of Kano's wrists, though. “You forgetting some of the details of that?”

____

That it was frenzied, nonstop, bent-over-the-desk fucking that neither of them needed any working up to? Least of all, Kabal.

____

Kano remembers. Gets the point, though. Omega outta heat's like anyone else. Gonna need buttering up, and Erron hasn't even got _that_ around here.

____

Still, Kabal straddles Kano and leans forward to taunt him. Murmurs into his ear while he's running a hand over the crotch of his pants. Prodding at the obvious bulge. “Besides, you may be _up for it,_ but you're definitely not up for it.” Then he backs away as he pops the button of his pants. Unzips them.

____

Then he slides both hands to the side and takes squeezes at Kano's hip bones. Right. _Drop 'em_.

____

“Then what the fuck's this—” Kano means to be snarky, but his breath catches over Kabal's warm, firm hand giving his balls a fondle. Cupping a moment, then moving onto to tug on his cock.

____

“You can owe me.”

____

“Don't like being in debt.”

____

“That's too bad,” Kabal insists, and it's silk in his words, and he gives a few more too-slow strokes. The goddamn tease.

____

“Should be mutual,” Kano mumbles, only half there, because now Kabal's kneeling.

____

He must be feeling real generous—more generous than worried, at least—because now he's gone and traced a line underneath Kano's cock with his tongue. What's more, he's kept Kano's eye the whole time and Kano knows he shouldn't be dizzy from it.

____

Not fucking yet. Don't go making mistakes—Kano likes sitting back, all lazy, and _hazy_ , and letting someone else do all the work. Especially someone who knows what the hell he's doing. Kabal knows better than to go groping on his nuts like he hasn't got a set of his own. Knows to keep his teeth the fuck outta the way. Doesn't gag, but makes eyes like maybe he should be and even he's surprised how well he's taking it all.

____

It just gets too heavy, too soon, for Kano, and he has to rest his head on the hard back of the sofa and close his eye. He wants to see that pretty mouth good and slobbered up and full. See his own hand dug into Kabal's hair—fingertips clawing at his scalp—instead of just leaving it to rest idly atop his head, while he bobs, needing no guidance whatsoever.

____

Only empties his mouth to glance up and tease at Kano's balls with his tongue. It's something like Kabal's rushing now, but not really. He's just not playing at drawing it out anymore, and Kano comes with a shudder, and a swear, and it isn't often there's someone's name on it, too.

____

Well, it's not often he knows who the fuck's sucking him off, or cares to.

____

It _never ever_ ends with, or starts with, or just fucking involves a kiss, either.

____

But the shit's done it. Kabal's yanked Kano's pants back up while he's still in a fog. Made sure they're both cleaned up. Then straddles him again—he's straight sitting in his lap is what—and presses their lips together.

____

Gives him a kiss. A fucking kiss. What in the hell does he think he's doing?

____

Kano's only half there as he's asking, “Fuck are you doing, mate?”

____

“You said you didn't like being in debt.”

____

“And you said _I could owe you,_ ” Kano reminds him.

____

A fuck. Later. A real good one, too. Not whatever he's playing at with this.

____

“Then _you_ said it should be mutual.”

____

“Should be.”

____

“Yeah, it _should_ be.”

____

Kabal wants more than just a fuck, then, does he?

____

 

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so ridiculously OCD that I hate how I've broken pattern with this chapter. It's a recent edit because it was just too awkward a scene change for the Erron POV scene. But UGH. Cannot win.  
> What else? Shang Tsung, tho? A friggin' shapeshifter who has turned into a chick oodles of times... I swear that shit practically writes itself. I feel like he totally could've had a honeytrap moment go ass wrong at some point in another universe. In the actual game universe. Best way ever to get one over on Liu Kang. Like, pose as Kitana and then baby mama his ass. I need help. Please, someone write this. The crackier the better. Raiden needs to be like, 'IDGAF that it's Shang Tsung, you will not shirk your responsibilities, Liu Kang.' Or w/e.  
> I don't usually write smut of any sort, so yeah, it's godawful.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, what's new? One of my millions of previously introduced subplots is coming to fruition. One of the others is conspicuously ignored but Kabal's very meta about it.

Kabal feels like he really doesn't want much. Isn't asking for much. A few changes of clothes, maybe. Not that _anything_ he owns fucking fits anymore. If he keeps stealing Kano's shit—which also doesn't fit—well, sooner or later, neither one of them is gonna have anything to wear.

He'd like to have his hookswords, too, even though he's got no plans to use them anytime soon. But hell, there's a ton of stuff that's happened that wasn't part of any plan.

Nothing _he's_ been planning, at least.

He really just wants to not have been banished from his own place.

His own body.

His own _life_.

He knows he's being an asshole but everything is just so fucked and he can't turn it off.

Erron offering to send Ferra to Kabal's apartment _again_ to grab whatever he wants is well-intentioned. Because he apparently sent her out looking for him a bunch of times while he was stuck at the Island with Kitana. One more trip's not gonna be the straw that broke the camel's back. She's sneaky, and she gets some weird comfort from pleasing Kabal.

From feeling useful, and like she belongs. He pegged that about Ferra the moment they met, because he saw his own damage in her.

Only, his shit's not the kid's responsibility, and offering favors, even peripherally, is also well beyond the sort of generosity Erron's known for. Which is none at all, unless there's money involved. So he can take his pity and shove it up his ass.

“You're not gonna scam her into being your little errand girl or whatever,” Kabal scoffs.

“You're the one that brought her in in the first place,” Erron points out. He's right. He adds, “Besides, she can make up her own mind. The two of 'em could use the money, especially now that—”

Kabal cuts him off. “The Black Dragon's gone under?”

“Yeah,” Erron needlessly agrees.

“She's just a kid.”

“What the hell do you care?”

“So, what are _you_ gonna do? Without it?” Kabal asks, suddenly.

He figures Erron knows what he's getting at, and shit, he's curious. What's Erron planning to do without the Black Dragon? Without Mortal Kombat?

All Erron offers for an answer is a huffy, “What's it to you?”

Kabal knows he's somewhere between picking at a scab and just plain taunting when he guesses, “Gonna take all the extermination jobs the Emperor has to offer? Go shooting up people who've saved your life before?”

Erron reminds him, “That was the job.”

It's less picking and more taunting and Kabal knows it's wrong—it's hormones, or maybe just his own shit personality—and he's not gonna do a thing to stop himself. “And if Shao Kahn finds out you let the Sorcerer get away? Let his bastard daughter live? Let all of us live?”

“Who's gonna tell him? That ain't also got secrets. Ain't also got something to lose.”

Kabal's not gonna like the answer, but he's gotta ask, “What if I hadn't been there? If Kitana hadn't been there?”

“What do you think?” Erron asks, just irritated at the question. Well, that makes two of them.

“Right.”

“Okay then.” There's a weird sort of glint in Erron's eyes as he asks, “What if _I_ hadn't been sent?”

So Kabal throws Erron's question right back at him. “ _What do you think_?”

It's clear what Erron thinks and he hasn't responded yet. _He_ thinks Kabal would've been killed. He's probably right. He would've been killed, and Kitana too. Heads would've rolled, soon as Shao Kahn realized his _legitimate_ daughter got caught in the crossfire of him trying to bump off Shang Tsung, and _their_ spawn, sure. But it still would've happened.

Would've been an entirely different outcome if Erron and Kabal hadn't both been there. Been there, and been friendly enough with one another to work something else out. Or what passes as friendly between them.

Kabal knows he's stating the obvious, and what's more, it's gonna fall on deaf ears. Still, he says, “We all had a good thing.”

Erron's reply, served with a smug, _no shit, Sherlock_ kind of grin, is, “Well, nothing lasts forever.”

“You think I don't know things change?”

Kabal can pretend all he wants that he's not in as deep as Kano, just because he didn't actually kill anyone. Or blow anything up. Or _get_ blown up. Even if Kano spared him any of that out of anything but his own shitty pride, he's still guilty by association.

True or not, it's how those Special Forces agents see it. Especially the lieutenant, given what little Erron's told Kabal about her. Something along the lines of 'she'd carve him like a Thanksgiving turkey and he'd love every minute of it'.

Ugh. Fucking masochist.

 _What the hell_ was Kano thinking, inviting her in like that?

Well, Kabal has an idea what. Kano convinced himself he could get his hands on another agent—alive, this time—and turn 'em over to the Emperor for a nice bonus. It's exactly the type of shit SF was thinking, too. That _they_ could get hold of someone relatively close to Shao Kahn and use him one way or another.

Problem is, when it came down to it, neither side came out on top. Nobody bagged a trophy. Everyone just went scurrying back to their own corner to lick their wounds.

Because Sektor apparently detonated one of his own people inside the Black Dragon, if Erron isn't talking out his ass. Oh, and _people_ is putting it lightly. Not lightly— _normally_. It was some kind of cyborg.

Erron's surprisingly honest for a hitman, and even if he wasn't, that's sure not the kind of story _he'd_ tell. Surprisingly honest _and_ unimaginative.

Except for that Thanksgiving turkey shit.

They've gotta be laying low, too. Regrouping. There have to be injuries on their side, too. It's not settled yet. Yet? It never will be. Kano's gonna _Tom and Jerry_ this shit with SF until somebody ends up dead.

Kabal honestly feels like it's 50-50 who it'll be.

All he knows is _he's_ not gonna spend the rest of his life sleeping with one eye open, and he's sure as shit not gonna do that to his kid, because he fucked a guy who can't play nice with anyone. Have him, or her end up some emotionally stunted, affection starved recluse because _they_ both have a price on their heads.

Kabal gets a look from Erron when he breaks a too-long silence with only, “I'm leaving.”

But there's nothing else the way of resistance. There's curiosity as to where the hell Kabal's going, but Erron doesn't push it. Doesn't ask where he's headed, or when he'll be back.

xxxxxxx

Kabal figures the power's probably off at his apartment by now. Furniture might be outside by the dumpster. Mailbox is definitely crammed full of shit, for as long as it's been since he was home. Might as well chuck the keys because even if the lock hasn't been changed, Kabal can't use 'em anymore.

It's like he's crossed a threshold into a world he can't come back from. Like a door opened in front of him, someone shoved him through it, and then slammed it shut behind him. There's no going back. But at the same time, there's all sorts of traps laid out, trying to entice him to try and find a way back in.

It all matches the lies he tells himself when he wishes he could have his old life back. What if it hasn't been too long? What if everything's still there? What if all that's missing is him?

The place looks clean enough inside, not that Kabal has been in a real hospital, or doctor's office, or clinic for years.

He pays cash. He's got plenty of that, especially after this last job, and _doesn't_ have insurance, so yeah. The receptionist doesn't seem fazed, so it must not be that uncommon.

He halfasses the paperwork and tunes out the judgment-laced-concern that comes with _everyone_ finding out he's waited so fucking long to see a doctor.

Kabal's been busy.

_Any movement? It's possible he's already felt it and just didn't realize that's what it was._

He has. He knows exactly what it is.

_His blood pressure's a little high._

Job stress.

_The gel's gonna be cold. Sorry._

Kabal understands how lube works. It's fine.

Feels the wand digging in. It doesn't hurt. It's appropriately uncomfortable, almost.

Then he doesn't understand anything anymore. It's all just washed away in a sea of way-too-fucking-fast thumping, and there's a picture forming. Fuzzy and tiny, but so very human.

It's equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying.

* * *

 

Kano's hair might grow back around the implant—around the damage that led to it is what. Or it might not. Who the hell knows.

Right now, though, it's like someone started at mowing and quit after one row. Who the fuck gives up like that? So quick?

The hardware itself is top notch, and now that he's recovered, Kano doesn't mind it one bit. He's more than a little anxious to give it a go. He's also not the type to be satisfied with paper bullseyes, or tin cans on a fence.

Live targets are more his style.

He's got loads of unfinished business that needs dealing with, too. Imagines he'll get to give the old cybernetic eye a good, thorough workout soon enough.

The plug's bent and the electric shaver in his hand groans, as Kano stares at his own face in a dirty mirror. Takes the occasional glance down at an already clogged drain that he isn't doing any favors. It doesn't take long to buzz his hair, but he's not planning to leave it at that.

Kano's finishing it all off with a razor—looks slick, and feels even better—when Kabal's face appears in the yellowed mirror behind him.

Kano doesn't turn around, just asks Kabal's reflection, “What?”

It's obvious he's got something on his mind, as dark as he's looking. No, not dark. Serious, though.

But serious turns devious, the way Kabal runs a hand right across the top of Kano's newly smooth head. Guess he figures he's earned the right to be handsy or something. His touch is way too fucking soft for anyone's good and it's set Kano to twitching in all sorts of ways.

Kabal's reflection is smirking at him, as he asks, “You having a midlife crisis or something?”

“ _Midlife_? I'm in my fucking prime. Just fancied a little change is all.”

“You sure? Shaving your head seems like an identity crisis.”

“I know who the fuck I am. What do you want?”

“I never said I didn't like it,” Kabal insists, and it's in his eyes. It's in his eyes, and his grin, and the way he won't quit running his hand across Kano's head. Front to back. Back to front. Raking with his fingertips. Sweeping with his palm. Then he brushes and blows at Kano's neck, sending stray hairs away.

It also sends electricity through Kano's groin and a rumble through his throat. “You need something?” Or is he just fucking teasing?

Kabal quits touching, with his hands, at least. But he leans in real close and starts fishing around in his back pocket. The bump in his middle presses right into the small of Kano's back.

Well, it's a tiny, shit bathroom, and they're squeezed in tight. Stacked next to each other sort of like the way they'd line up and lock together if they ever shared a bed. Ever did more than just fuck in one.

Haven't even done that yet. _Yet_. Kano's even more worked up about that _debt_ to Kabal he hasn't made good on.

A piece of paper slides in between the discolored mirror and Kano's own face.

It's black and white and blurry. A little alien looking thing, even if he knows exactly what it is. He grabs at Kabal's hand and pulls _it_ closer, so he can get a better look at the printout he's holding onto. Feels too weird to touch the paper for some reason, even though it's just a picture and he's done well more than touch Kabal.

They're touching _now_. He put what's _on_ that paper _in_ him.

Kano studies it a moment, until he sees something peculiar. “That a dick, mate?”

Kabal laughs. He feels warm, and _sounds_ amused. “That _would_ be the first thing you noticed.”

“Well, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Never seen one that small before.”

“There's a joke in there somewhere.”

Kano turns around, and away from the mirror. “So it's... got a dick, then.”

It's not just a reflection smirking at him now. It's Kabal's shit-eating grin staring at him, dead on. “Yeah. It does. _He_ does. It's a boy.”

Kano shrugs. Scoffs, “That's what I meant.”

“Right.” Kabal gives him a look that just screams _I don't buy it._

Well, it is. Even if he hasn't said it. He can. He just hasn't.

Kabal pockets the picture, gives Kano a quick pat on the chest, and turns to leave.

Kano's stomping along behind him, down the hall. “Hey. Come on. You mad now or something?”

“What? No.” He ducks into the bedroom. Leaves a shrug for Kano in the doorway.

Bedroom's awful. Tiny. Cramped. Just like every other corner of this place. It's nothing _but_ corners, and too-tight spots, it seems.

It's the first Kano's felt well enough to think on how he ought to have been in _here_ with Kabal, instead of sacked out on the sofa, for however many days he spent in a sweaty, sick haze until his fever broke.

The bed creaks when Kabal sits on it. He keeps his legs apart, and lets his hands rest on his thighs. He insists, “I'm not mad. You took it surprisingly well. So well, in fact—”

Then Kabal raises his arms a bit and opens 'em, like an invitation.

“Don't let your mouth write checks your ass can't cover, Kabal.”

“My ass can cover it.”

Kabal doesn't fight it, this time, when Kano tosses his jacket and works his hands under his shirt. Instead, he stands up to undress him in kind.

He just cocks his head to the side when he sees Kano's staring and muses, “Are you weirded out?”

Kano's not. Just sort of... gobsmacked.

“Hornier than you are weirded out, at least?” Kabal slides Kano's belt free with a quick, whip-like motion. The buckle makes an odd clinking sound when it hits the ground. Kano's only mildly aware of it. “Because I'll blindfold you if I have to.”

Kano chuckles despite himself. Reaches out for a grope, also despite himself. Should be ass naked and grabbing for _someone's_ cock at this point, but he's got hands on that bump. Firm. Both hands, and he's got room to move them around.

It's pure amusement on Kabal's face. “Are you...? You got a fetish or something?”

“Loads of 'em. Just you wait.”

He moves his hands around and down to Kabal's hips and tugs him in closer. He's a bit wider there now. Makes sense. Or something. The biology of it all is only on Kano's radar so much as a good romp is concerned. Usually.

His pecs are a bit softer, too. Kano gets a hiss out of Kabal when he drags his hands across his chest, too. His voice hitches, over the touch. “Ah— _okay_.”

Kano's gonna remember that. Remember it the same as he remembers every bit of Kabal's body. It's how he's so sure of the way it's changed—beyond the fucking obvious.

He's rubbed one out to the memory many a time over the past few months. Had to use his imagination before that.

Gonna update the memory banks here and now, though.

* * *

 

It still gives Erron a certain itch, knowing he didn't finish things with Shang Tsung and Mileena. Didn't finish? He straight-up welched on the job and let them get away. If the Emperor wants more than Erron's word it's done—hah.

There's no bodies from the Island. Who the hell knows the last time someone actually died there. Could be relatively recently, depending on the last _patient_ the Sorcerer had. Well, besides the recently relocated Mrs. Kahn.

Well, Erron doesn't go hauling his kills around in a sack, thrown over his shoulder. Drop it in front of anyone he comes upon, in place of a 'how do you do?' while a severed head rolls out. What kinda nonsense is that?

It's always been the way of things—his way, at least—that the proof a job was done is in the problem going away. How well it was done depends on whether or not _anybody_ ever turns up a body.

If anyone's been back to the Island to have a look around, they ain't gonna find anything they shouldn't. But they ain't gonna find anything they should, either.

Sort of like being in limbo.

It's fitting.

Maybe it's just that stupid shit Kabal has put Erron to thinking and it pisses him off. What's he gonna do without the Black Dragon? Same thing he did before. Take work as it comes and be glad his head's not in the noose. Move the hell on if it looks like he might have a date with the hangman.

Start looking too far back, or too far ahead, things get all screwed up.

Erron's in straight denial, though, if he doesn't admit that somewhere in his mind, he kept a picture—sort of distorted, and not fully-formed, like the one of Kabal's insides that's circulating around. But he knows what it's supposed to look like. A picture of the three of them running Mortal Kombat for the Emperor for the rest of their days.

The shape of it changed a bit recently, though Erron wouldn't let himself see it any clearer. Turned to them running Mortal Kombat with a screaming baby around. Then, a snot-nosed toddler, a smart-mouthed kid, all the way until the mongrel got old enough to start doing side jobs for Shao Kahn, too.

Then real jobs for him.

Somebody take a lighter to the goddamn negatives, hell.

See, a summons to see the Emperor at home isn't something to be scoffed at. He conducts the majority of his business at Outworld, where doling out assignments is concerned, anyway.

Kitana's there, and pulls Erron away from his _escort_ to the Emperor's office. “Give us a moment, would you?”

It puts the guard to narrowing his eyes, and he doesn't budge.

“I will see he reaches father. You are dismissed.”

It's clear the guy doesn't like hearing orders from the Princess. He absolutely hates that he has to abide by 'em. The guard eventually stalks off.

Kitana waits a minute before she speaks again. She's either not convinced the guard's far enough away, or she's at a loss for what to say. Little bit of both, most likely. Finally, she says, “I know we've no relationship and I've no right to ask your help—”

Ask for help? That's rich. She can _buy_ it, sure. But Erron has a feeling she isn't looking to. So he reminds her, “Don't mistake me for Kabal, Princess.”

Kitana clicks her tongue, real offended-like. “I'll not. No more than I've mistaken his hormones for a conscience. I will pay you.”

That's more like it, so Erron asks, “Pay me for what?”

“Someone dear to me has gone missing and I wish to find her.”

Hah. That's one way of putting it. Sort of sad that Shao Kahn won't tell the girl where her own mother's at, though.

“I'm a fixer, not a P.I.”

“It has been too long, and with the way father assigned me another bodyguard, even if he was only temporary—” She stops, gazes down. Finally confesses, “I fear for Jade.”

“Jade?” Erron doesn't mean to ask. He means to _know_ , but he doesn't mean to let on that there's something he doesn't know, or that he's interested. That Kitana's so much as piqued his curiosity. “Shit. Thought you meant your mother.”

“ _I know of mother_.” There's so much venom on those words, it's a wonder they didn't roll off a forked tongue.

To hell with that devoted daughter shit Kabal tried to feed him, because Kitana sounds just as disgusted with Sindel as she always has with Shao Kahn.

“You really wanna hire me, you know what to do,” Erron says, gesturing ahead.

Pay up and don't make _him_ any enemies. He can do that himself.

Kitana escorts Erron to the Emperor in silence, and she's gone before he reaches the threshold, and can so much as knock. Almost like she didn't want the old man seeing the two of them together.

Erron enters when beckoned. Stays standing even after he's told he can sit. It's just not his style.

Gets told Shao Kahn has a rat that needs trapping. It's a _bring 'em in alive_ sort of job. Odd that he's offering work like that to Erron and not someone closer to him. Someone who normally does that sort of thing for him. Erron knows better than to be flattered.

Shao Kahn knows it's not Kano. Sure, he brought a special brand of destruction on 'em all, but the Emperor trusts he's loyal. This was something in the works well before that fiasco. May well have led to it.

Shao Kahn has a couple of ideas of who it might be. None of them please him. Well, no shit. Someone plotting against him from the inside would piss a man off.

He tells Erron one of them might displease him. It ain't _him_ , so it's not gonna.

“I'll do the job, no matter who it is,” Erron insists.

Always has.

Almost always.

Then the door opens without warning and _she's_ a long way from Lin Kuei HQ. Long way from comatose, too. Doesn't quite look alive, though. She almost looks younger now, and there's no tubes, no wires—that Erron can see, anyway.

She doesn't acknowledge him at all. It's not so surprising. It's been long enough she might not recognize Erron. Except it sort of looks like Sindel doesn't recognize anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually super prefer the older/current Kano look with the hair, but he's effing hot no matter what. And it made for a good moment? Then I ruined the wholesomeness by implying Kano and Kabal fucked like bunnies right after. They did. Kabal stole lube from the clinic or something. Or hit up the lube store while he was out. Why does that make me think of Mac shouting about “the hamburger store” on It's Always Sunny?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this filler? It feels like filler. Or maybe like we're operating on soap opera time, where things move in fast-forward or slo-mo to suit my whims. Well, damn. I'm just here to write weirdo kink shit and crappy oneshots, anyway.

It's that Jax bloke, on the paper Sektor's shoved in front of Kano. A photo, and it must be recent. There's no hide nor hair of Sonya in the shot. Just Jax—make that Jackson Briggs, Special Forces, and _her_ superior. He's shirtless in the picture, and, what's more, _he's got metal arms_. Shoulder to fingertip, too. It's bruised and damn ugly looking, around where the prosthetics have been attached.

He's a real Frankenstein's Major, now, isn't he?

Either he's chosen to go bionic—go supersoldier for Uncle Sam—or he _hasn't_. Seems more like something, or _someone_ chose for him. Did he get knocked around that badly in the explosion?

“It's my technology,” Sektor begins. “But it wasn't my work.”

“Right.”

What the fuck's that matter?

Sektor explains, “I am curious whose augment is superior, though.”

That's the ticket. “You wanna see if cybernetic eye beats bionic arm, is that it?” Kano asks, with a chuckle.

It's suddenly got _him_ real curious.

“Precisely. And I figured, since you have unfinished business with him—” Sektor pauses. It's unnecessary. “There's also _our_ arrangement to consider—”

Kano assures him, “You'll get your practical data, mate.”

“I'd prefer if the bionics were salvageable, at least.”

“Wasn't planning to aim for them, anyhow.” Well, Kano isn't. Laser beam straight through the head is what came to mind first. Won't be much of a test of those arms, but it'll sure be fun for him.

“I get the feeling you do very little with a plan in mind.” Sektor's wearing that smug smirk of his. "He will be much more useful alive."

Kano groans. What a nag, even if he's right.

Sektor seems to think he's stayed on subject when he adds, “I hear your omega finally came back around.”

“What's he got to do with anything?” Kano asks, with a growl. It's the angry rumble _all_ of his words wear when anyone gets too familiar with just the idea of Kabal.

“He's been your weakness before.”

The fuck he has.

“Put your affairs in order before you take to this task, would you?” Sektor looks like a cross between mildly amused and mildly annoyed, the way he says it.

Kano's affairs are his own, alright, and they're plenty orderly. Bit too orderly nowadays, if he's being honest. Not that it's any of Sektor's business.

“What about Sonya?” Kano asks. He knows it's come outta nowhere. But if Sektor's got the goods on her partner, he must know what she's up to.

How she fared. Why she ain't been around.

Sektor admits, “Haven't the slightest idea. If she's dead, it hasn't been officially reported, officially added to her file.”

Kano doesn't know how he knows it, but he knows it. He rubs at his chin, and muses, “Nah. She ain't dead.”

Sektor offers, “If she was wounded, it surely wasn't so serious as the Major.”

Possible.

So Sonya must be working at something else. Maybe she's just been waiting for Jax to heal up so they can get back on the horse together. That's fine. She'll burn just the same as the Major.

xxxxxxx 

It's easy enough to catch Jax's eye, once Kano takes to trying. Lures him with word he's willing to deal, offers a location.

If Jax is disappointed to see just Kano at the meetup, well, the feeling's mutual. Even if _he's_ the only one Sektor's interested in. Sonya's just so much more... More fun. More to look at. More _everything_.

It's clear what each of them has got a mind to do. Kano's gonna slice off both of Jax's arms, cauterize the nubs, and drag him to Shao Kahn with just enough light left in him that the Emperor can snuff it out for good.

Jax—well, Jax has a plan to put Kano's head between those metal fists of his and pop it like an overripe melon, tear his cybernetic eye off, and cash in on both his death, and all the data stored within his implant. He'll share the spoils with Sonya, of course.

Wherever she is. Kano just knows where she isn't: here.

As Kano and Jax both break from a sloppy grapple, Kano taunts, “Where's Sonya, eh?” It's half to get a rise out of Jax, and half because he really does wanna know.

“You ain't ever gonna get near her again.”

Jax is a tougher one than Kano would've given him credit for, considering he's one of them even-tempered beta types. That irritating ass combination of grit and composure. But everyone's got a button and does Jax's ever need pressing.

What's more, he's fast for a big fella. Crosses his arms and raises 'em over his face to block the laser beam aimed right between the eyes. Kano can see the damage to his right arm, where the beam cuts. But it's minor, and fleeting, as both of his arms start to glow. Red hot, then white hot.

Sektor could've fucking mentioned that.

It's possible he didn't know. Possible, but real damn unlikely. It being _his_ technology and all.

It's much more likely he wants the practical data to be good and _raw_ , too.

“Didn't know it was like that between you two, mate.”

“ _It's not.”_

That's got Jax good and pissed off. He lunges forward, way too fast for a man of his size, with one arm outstretched. He grabs and pulls Kano in by the shirt. Once he's got hold he puts his other fist straight into Kano's head—on the _right_ side. Must think he'll get somewhere if he can disable the implant.

There's an audible _and_ physical zapping when the punch connects. _When it connects_ , and reverberating through Kano's head afterward.

He can't feel how serious the damage is. Oh, he can _feel_ there's damage—inside and out—just can't tell how bad. He doubts it's irreparable, but it still isn't good. Laser's a no-go or he'd be unloading a beam into Jax right now. Be cutting a line down and through his chest.

Kano's able to free himself by jumping and driving both feet into, and then off of Jax's chest. Almost impressive Jax doesn't drop from that. Barely staggers back from it.

It's fine, though. It's all fine. They can do this the old fashioned way. Kano puts his left hand over his face—his eye—so he's free to draw his knife with his right.

He waits until Jax is right on him to plunge his blade into the soft spot just under the Major's shoulder and pries. _Rips_. It's sort of like butchering a chicken.

It's a high kind of yowl Jax makes, and not the type of sound that usually comes from a man his size. He tries to shield his dangling left arm with his right.

Oh no. Not gonna happen.

Sektor's gonna get _his_ parts, and the Emperor's gonna get _his_.

* * *

 

Tall blonde alpha female. Kabal knows who she is immediately, and they've never met. Wonders what the hell she's got to say to him. It'll all go into determining how fucked he is.

“You're a hard man to find.”

Well, that's unexpected. Kabal's actually amused by it, and laughs. It fades into a groan when the kid kicks him a good one. He manages, “I doubt that.”

“You've been MIA so long I was sure you were dead.”

He hasn't been; SF just hasn't been looking in the right places. Until now.

Still, Kabal has no clue what Sonya's getting at. “Why would I be dead?”

She grabs a chair, turns it, straddles it, and leans forward. Motions for him to sit, too. “Would you just—you're making me crazy, standing up like that.”

What, should he devolve to before man stood upright or something? _Fuck_. He knows exactly what she's getting at, and he _doesn't_ need to sit down.

He sits, anyway.

“Since you're _not_ dead,” Sonya begins, like she's gonna unload something big. But she lets the words hang.

Kabal's not gonna indulge her.

She swallows, nods, forces eye contact, and admits, “It took a lot of guts to do what you did. Especially considering your _relationship_ with Kano.”

Ugh. Kid just keeps nailing the same fucking spot. “Refresh my memory.”

“But it's not done. I still have no proof of what happened to Lance.”

First name basis? That's awfully familiar, considering the circumstances of Kabal's one meeting with Sonya's dead partner. Not that she knows the details. Obviously.

She continues, “I may know who did it, but I have nothing to bring him in on.”

No? Thought Kano so much as confessed before the fireworks show? That's how he told it, anyway. 'Yeah, she knows I did it. Gave over his badge and everything. Then I socked her right in the fucking face.'

Kabal knows it shouldn't have amused him.

It did.

Maybe it's that instead of feeling sympathy for someone just trying to do her job, trying to do right by a dead pal, he feels the threat _of_ Sonya. The danger she poses is just too much to abide by, whether or not there's a tiny part of him that thinks she deserves the truth.

She won't just take it and call it a day. Even if it wasn't her job, she'd drag it into the ground. That's the problem. Sonya wants to take everything else Kabal's got along with that truth, and that's just not going to fucking happen.

It's a laundry list of charges if he even tells her he was there. That he and her boy fought it out before Kano interrupted. That Kabal got socked a good one right where her eyes keep darting, and that's what set Kano off. The memory has him brushing a hand across his middle—it's so fucking big now—before he rests it where the kid just won't quit. A foot rises to meet his hand.

_Yeah, she's pissing me off, too, bud._

What the hell would Sonya think if she knew that Kabal was the one who washed however many pints of her partner outta the cage while Erron and Kano— Well, while Erron and Kano did whatever they did with what _couldn't_ just be hosed and bleached away.

Fuck what she'd think—what would she _do_? She'd throw all their asses in prison. Again, not gonna fucking happen.

It's been quiet too long and Sonya's staring again. Just like everyone else does. It's that up and down _and up again_ sweep of the eyes. Meant to catch a glance at his bump, but not _be_ caught looking.

Right. The two of them—they're the same. Only, they're not. Extra, but somehow also less-than because of their composition. Able to do twice as much, and treated at least that weird if they actually do.

Sonya mistakes the quiet for contemplation. Okay, it _is_ contemplation, but Kabal's sure not mulling over what she must think he is. Because when she finally speaks, she admits, “What I really want is to finish what Lance started. What _you both_ started, when you reached out to him.”

Beg her fucking pardon? When Kabal _what_?

It makes sense, though. Of course the guy had an inside contact. Sure as shit wasn't him, though. _Isn't_ him. Fuck. Kabal's done some shameless shit in his life, but he's no snitch.

Whoever it is must've gotten scared, backed off after word got back that their knight in shining armor had been killed. When it got around that Kano took the guy out _without_ orders. When that lunatic in charge of the Black Dragon saw it was an SF agent and did him in on the spot. Didn't even take him before Shao Kahn to be dealt with. Snuffed it out right there because of the affront. The insult. To himself _and_ the Emperor.

Not real surprising this mystery informant changed his mind about rolling on Shao Kahn when his ticket out was reduced to a piece of tin and fodder for the rumor mill.

And now Kabal understands why Sonya tried her hand at cooperation with Kano. It does beg the question, what all her partner would've had to say, if he'd lived long enough to stand before the Emperor.

Be beaten down before the Emperor.

Would he have given up a name? Or at least coughed up that he had someone on the inside, if not who? That _that_ was what put him onto them in the first place.

It's definitely someone with an axe to grind with Shao Kahn. There's tons of people on the outside who'd like to have a shot at him, sure. But not a lotta dissension among the ranks. He runs a tight ship, and keeps a well-compensated crew.

The only person Kabal's ever known to be outright hostile to, or about the Emperor—and get away with it, at least—is Kitana.

Oh. Shit.

* * *

 

Man's gotta _find_ his target before he kills 'em. Even if that isn't part of the job this time. Yet. Still, Erron'll still treat it the same. So he follows the trail set out before him, even if it doesn't match this particular target one bit.

Seems much more like the kinda place he, or Kano, or Kabal would hole up. Not someone high class like Jade.

But here she is. Still demure as ever, even if she is on the run. The green she covers herself in is shiny, sparkly, like gems, not gaudy or unnatural, like jealousy, and she's the same vision she's always been. Both too good _for_ her job and too good _at_ it.

It's with genuine curiosity that Jade asks, “How in the world did you find me?”

Erron's reply is equally earnest. “I was hired to.”

She's unamused. “I would assume so. I asked _how_ you found me. I can well see that you have.”

“If I'm hired to do a job, I do it,” Erron insists. Except for that one job, but Jade doesn't need to know about that.

The thinness of their patience, it's mutual. Well, at least something is.

“The specifics ain't so important, are they?” Erron continues.

Even though it's pretty clear she doesn't want to, Jade agrees, “I suppose not. Who hired you? The Emperor?”

“Not quite.”

“You _would not_ accept work from Kitana.” She sounds so sure of herself.

“I would if she paid me.”

Jade's firm. “I cannot go back.”

Erron chuckles. It isn't out of amusement, though. It's more of a reflex. “Well, she's gonna be real disappointed to hear that. And I ain't gonna get the other half of my pay. And _I'll_ be real disappointed about that.”

“You don't understand.” There's something almost like fear in Jade's words.

“Don't need to.”

Now it's desperation in her voice. “The Emperor will kill her. I cannot return until I can ensure she is safe.”

“How is your being away gonna protect her?” Seems real counterproductive.

“What I tell you cannot go beyond the two of us.”

Erron's as annoyed as he is curious what Jade's got to say. First things first, though. He sort of agitatedly asks, “Do I look like a gossip?”

“You look like you can be paid to do anything. Including gossip.”

She ain't wrong. “Touche. Spill it.”

Jade swallows hard. She looks like she thinks she's unloading something real heavy when she says, “Shao Kahn suspects someone near to him is plotting against him.”

Erron knows better than to think he's easing Jade's mind when he admits, “I know.” Then again, he isn't trying to. He isn't here to placate her.

“What?”

“See,” Erron drawls, “I'd like to be done with _this_ job so I can move onto _that_ one.”

“He's hired you to find the traitor?”

“Something like that.”

It's pure suspicion in Jade's eyes, and her voice. “Yet, you also accepted an offer from Kitana to find me?”

“Let's just say my 401k took a hit and leave it at that.”

Jade admits, “Shao Kahn first assigned _me_ the task of discovering the traitor within his midst. I can only assume it was a test of my loyalty. I did it. I discovered who it was. But I did not tell him.”

“Because you're in love with her?” Erron halfheartedly guesses. It's only halfhearted because he knows it without a doubt. He's more curious what Jade's gonna say back.

“That is none of your business.”

“Everyone knows about the two of you. Might as well just get a cake topper with two ladies on it and call it good. So, why'd you run away?”

“I have not run away.” Jade's offended. She explains. “I know of one who can help us both. One who can satisfy the Emperor's need to destroy the one who plots against him, and at the same time, free Kitana and I both from this world. From _his_ world.”

“You're talking about that doppelganger, aren't you? Mileena?”

“How in the world do you know of her? No one is to know of her.”

Erron acknowledges, “I ain't supposed to.”

It makes sense. The Island's been destroyed. Mileena and the Sorcerer are both in the wind. It all means Jade can't set her up to take the fall for Kitana— _as Kitana_ —and then have the two of them go riding off into the sunset together.

It was a pretty good plan, though. Almost a shame how it got shit on.

Almost.

Jade sighs. Long, heavy. It lingers, and clings to her words. “The Island has been burned. By who, I do not know.”

Erron does. Isn't gonna say shit, though.

“The Sorcerer is gone, and she is gone with him. If they somehow became aware of what I was planning, or that someone became wise to Mileena's very existence, I do not know.”

Jade stops talking but it still sort of feels like Erron's cutting her off when he insists, “That ain't it.”

“If you know _who_ she is—”

Now he's definitely cutting her off. “I don't think so.”

“Do you know where Mileena is?”

“I told you I don't think so.”

“Which job will take priority then, Erron Black?”

It sounds almost like a challenge, but Erron's not gonna rise to meet Jade just yet. He quirks an eyebrow and asks, “How's that?”

“As they directly oppose one another. You will have to choose one job over the other, and face the enemies your choice grants you.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Erron pauses, then reminds Jade, “Already done both jobs. Found you, found the Emperor's traitor.”

“You've not lived to tell about it, though.”

Well, she's got him there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's super frustrating to try and play Jax and Sonya as competent enough, but not too competent. This is a team bad guy story, but I don't want an uneven rivalry, ya know?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, a wild trash kink offering/update. Bit by bit I'm filling this profile out with less weird shit, though. But then I'll probably turn around and have D'Vorah bugpreg someone or smth, tho, and rebalance the fates.  
> Anyway, I've been sitting on this for a bit. Lost my mojo or something. Next chapter and a half are done now, though.

The damage—Kano's damage, at least—was minimal. Doesn't make it any less annoying, though. It's gonna get real fucking old if every time his cybernetic implant takes a knock, he has to have Sektor poke and prod at it to get it up and running again.

Kano _needs_ him, and is that ever a shit feeling. He's supposed to be the one lording his advantage over others, after all. The one with the upper hand. That's gotta be part of the appeal of the agreement for Sektor. He'll never be on the outs when it comes to their deal, unless Kano happens upon someone else with Sektor's cybernetics know-how and equipment. It's real specialized work and they both know it.

SF's clearly got the technology, and Kano's betting that Sektor made a mint on the deal that put it in their hands. Of course, they don't exactly take walk-ins. Then again, they kind of do. They'd cream themselves if they saw the likes of anyone within Shao Kahn's empire go walking in their door willingly. Kano's burned that bridge—but anyone else? They'd be bent over backwards trying to turn a bloke.

Kano's hardly back from delivering Jax to Sektor and having his eye tinkered with when Kabal shows up, in from who the hell knows where. Kano doesn't know. But he's sure as shit gonna find out, because the second Kabal's anywhere near him, so is _she._ Sonya _._

Only she's not really there. Kano knows what it means that a _wave_ of her is just rolling off of Kabal. It means she was around him _. All around him_ , and he sure as fuck didn't seek her out. No. She came for him.

Kano's looming, and leering, and pacing circles around Kabal before the words are even out, _“Did she touch you?”_

Kabal just brushes off and past Kano's pacing and posturing until he's blocked. He glares and says only, “Move.”

“I don't fucking think so. I asked you a question: _did she touch you?_ ”

“No. She didn't touch me. Why would she want to? Why would _anyone_ want to?” Kabal gives a Kano a look—somewhere between disgusted and confused—then glances down at himself. Then he groans, and it's getting too hard to tell if it's frustration with Kano's prodding, or a side effect of being so fucking preggo. “Would you just move it? I have to piss.”

Well, that explains his shit attitude, at least. So, Kano steps aside, but insists, “You're gonna fucking tell me.”

“I already did,” Kabal calls back, and it's punctuated by a door slamming behind him.

 _Bullshit_. But it has answered one of Kano's questions. It explains where the hell Sonya was that she wasn't at _his_ little mano-a-mano with Jax.

Kano picks up the looming and leering and pacing—more like _stalking_ —when Kabal comes back into the room, until he sits down. His movement's sort of rough, and slow, too. Not like him at all.

“Start talking,” Kano growls.

“You sound just like her.”

What's Kabal trying for, implying Kano's like Sonya? Does he think Kano's gonna back off over an insult like that? Because he's already pissed off, and the longer Kabal dawdles, the worse it's gonna get. “What the fuck did she want from you, Kabal?”

“What do you think?”

“Dunno. That's why I'm asking. So stop being a shit and answer me already. She trying to get to me, using you?”

It's too quick to be a lie, the way Kabal says it. “Nope.”

That's not right.

It should be a relief to know Kabal's not got his neck in the noose on account of something Kano's done. It's been the thing he's been most bothered about in all of this. Bothered, not worried, and yeah, there's a difference. Kano can damn well take care of himself. Always has, always will. Used to be the case with Kabal.

Kabal shakes his head and finally— _finally_ —gives up the goods. “SF had a snitch on their side.”

Well, that's curious. Kano guesses, “Besides me?”

“A real one. So yeah, besides you. _Before_ you. It's what first tipped off that Lance guy.”

“The hell's that got to do with you?” Kano's asking, even though he feels the answer before he hears it.

“ _She_ thinks it was me.”

It means Sonya's gonna wanna work Kabal, mold him, play him to her side. Hell, she already thinks he's on it. Shit ain't gonna work, but she's not gonna give up on the idea. Worse, it's nowhere near as bad as if word gets to Shao Kahn about it all. It makes her a bona fide threat now, and not just a cute little toy Kano keeps winding up because he likes to see her spin. It means she's come for what's his and that's a line she can't uncross.

Kano's known all along it was gonna come to this. It's sort of liberating to have a real reason for it, knowing it's what he's wanted to do since they met. He nods, gives his chin a rub, real thoughtful like. He coolly declares, “Gonna have to kill her.”

Kabal sighs. Rolls his eyes. “Could you just not?”

He's lost his damn mind or something.

Kabal suddenly looks dark, and serious. Heavy. Moody. But it's not the sort of cranky he's been wearing around lately, scowling and grumbling about how everything hurts and he can't breathe and the thing won't quit with his bladder. Like it's all anyone's fault but his own.

It's a plea for something or other in Kabal's voice the way he says, “They're never gonna stop coming.”

“Yeah,” Kano agrees. “That's why they need to be put down, once and for all.”

“ _Kano_.” It's a growl, then a groan. Then Kabal's hand is over his middle, rubbing at one spot.

“You alright?”

Kabal ignores the question. That darkness, that moodiness, it's still there, but it's real focused now, and he says, “I want you to do something for me.”

If this is Kabal building up to getting Kano to swear he'll take care of the little shit if something happens to _him_ , he can fuck right off. Or if he's trying to distract Kano by suggesting that sort of shit— “Not a chance.”

Kabal insists, “I didn't even ask.”

“Don't have to. I know what you're gonna say. And it's still a no, mate. Your type squeeze out brats all the time. Nothing's gonna happen to you.”

“Real succinct, Kano. But that's not what I was gonna say. Good to know, though. So, that's a no because you're in denial that something could happen to me? Or because you're an asshole?”

“Pick one.”

Kabal insists, “You wouldn't like my choice.”

It's something like disbelief, rising up in Kano. Kabal's not usually so weak. He can pretend it's hormones—they both can—but it almost feels like it might be something more. Something more permanent, except what's put those thoughts inside of him _isn't_. Oh, it's plenty permanent; it's not just gonna be inside Kabal so much longer.

But it's looking like what _it's_ done to him isn't gonna go away.

Kano sort of spits out the realization, “You really want me to leave it be.”

“That's right.”

Kano snorts, “Fuck off. You said it yourself: they'll never stop coming.”

“You can't take all of SF. You really think it's gonna end if you kill her?”

Kabal's right, though, so Kano concedes, “No.”

“Good. I'm glad you finally realize that.”

Kano smirks—can't help himself. He chuckles a bit. “Gonna have to be loads more clever, aren't we?”

Kabal just sits there, with a grumpy, gloomy, doomed sort of look on his face. It's not lost on Kano the way he's moving his hand around on his belly, touching at one particular spot with his fingertips—sort of like a conversation Kano knows he can't really be a part of. Can't speak the language or something.

It's still bizarre to think of it all as more than a fuck gone too far, that Kabal didn't just go and get the coat hanger treatment for. Thing's got parts, and moves. It's got _moving parts_. Got the parts that Kano knows _what_ it is. He's felt it taking shots at Kabal several times. Knows that's exactly what the scrappy little shit is doing right now. Almost makes him proud.

“Hey.” Kano makes a point to catch Kabal's eyes.

Just gets a _get on with it_ glare in return. Kabal's still looking dark, but empty, too. That proud, pissed-off defiance of his is fading into no feeling at all, or maybe just no fight.

“Nothing's gonna happen to you. _Ever_.”

* * *

 

Erron knows it'd be a lot easier to turn Jade loose. Put her and Kitana to running toward each other, in slow-motion, in a field of daisies or something, and just wait for the money to hit his account. Except they'll find a way to fuck it up. No matter how quickly he were to turn it around and tell Shao Kahn that his precious little girl is the traitor looking to take him down, those two would fuck it up for him.

What's more, he actually hasn't got any proof. He's got his own suspicion, and Jade's word that it's Kitana. But that ain't enough to make the man turn and order a hit on his own daughter. It would be more than enough for him to have just about anyone else executed, but not the Princess. He was clearly planning to do it at some point, or at least have the means to do it. But he also scrapped that shit somewhere along the way. Maybe he decided Mileena wasn't worthy, or just didn't want to trade six of one, for half a dozen of the other.

Fuck if Erron knows.

It's all left him with a whole bunch of choices, but they're shit, every one of them. Mainly, it boils down to _keep your friends close_. He might, if he had any. It's the _and your enemies closer_ part of that saying he's thinking on right now. Thinking on and trying to tell himself it's for the best that he's brought Jade here. Even if it's not, he can't just send her off, half-cocked and thinking she knows it all. She doesn't know shit but she sure thinks she does.

She's also made it damn clear she isn't going _anywhere_ until she's sure Kitana is safe. Considering Erron's other job is the exact opposite of ensuring the Princess's well-being, they're sort of at an impasse. Jade's idea for saving Kitana was solid—still is. Even more than before, somehow, because nearly everyone who even knows Mileena exists thinks she's dead.

Of course, Erron's not so sure the one person _he_ knows with the goods on her whereabouts will be willing to give up the info. It's unlikely Kabal gives a shit about Mileena, but it makes sense he'd like to stay on the Sorcerer's good side. Getting in on a plan to sell the guy's daughter up the river probably goes against his newfound principles or something.

“I must get Kitana away from the Emperor,” Jade insists, and she's sounding real urgent, like she thinks it means something to Erron.

One thing at a time. And who the hell is she to be making demands?

“I got money on this, remember?” Erron reminds her. “I ain't slouching on the job, so just cool it.”

“Then what are _you_ doing? What are _we_ doing? _Here_?”

“That's a real good fucking question, _Erron_.” Kano ain't exactly asking, but it's clear he means to get an answer. It's in his stance, the way he's leant against the doorframe, taking it all up, trying to look real big for whoever.

Kano should know he's in the presence of three people who ain't gonna fall for it. Who either don't give a shit, or are just as prideful and stubborn as he is. Well, two plus Kabal, who just plain has his number.

Erron just points toward what he can see of Kabal, next to and behind Kano in the doorway. “Need to talk to _him_.”

Kano snorts, like he's got cause to speak for Kabal. “Like hell you do.”

“About what?” Kabal asks. It's in his eyes, though. He knows. Maybe not the specifics, but he knows.

“You don't say shit to him that I don't hear, too,” Kano insists. And darnit, it'd be just the sweetest thing, if he was capable of anything the right side of sociopathy.

“Who are you to make such demands?” Jade asks.

Kano finally steps aside so Erron and Jade can enter, and she sees it. Sees Kabal, and with him—on, and in, and all over him—the answer to her question.

She mutters, “Good lord.”

Erron has to stifle a chuckle.

“Getting real fucking old,” Kabal mutters, turning his back and shuffling away to take a seat. Doesn't even look back as he asks, “What do you want, Erron?”

“Where's he at?”

Kabal exhales, and asks, “Who?” like he doesn't fucking know.

“Shang Tsung.”

“Dead,” Kabal offers the lie so easy it's almost like listening to Kano. He laces his fingers together and rests his hands over his middle. “ _You_ killed him.”

Jade looks rightfully horrified. Well, she went to the Island at some point, saw it burned, and got exactly the idea she was supposed to. “This whole time, you led me to believe you knew nothing of what happened to them—”

Now, Erron didn't mislead her one bit. He just didn't say shit to correct her when she veered this way, then that, with her own ideas.

“Hold on a moment,” Jade begins, but then she stops herself. It's on her face, though. She's catching up. “You did not kill him. You were supposed to, though, weren't you? If the Emperor were ever to find out about that—”

Erron'd be in a real pinch, yeah. Not just him, either. Everyone who was there and knows what really happened. Jade's gonna be less than pleased to hear that includes her precious Kitana.

“What am I really here for, Erron Black?” Oh, Jade's gone and used his full name. Must want him to know she ain't messing around.

He reminds her, “Because you can't be trusted.”

She laughs, and it's high-pitched and fake as shit. “As if the three of you can.”

Kano's both looking her over and looking down on her as he takes a seat next to Kabal. Next to, damn near on top of—it's all the same to him. “Yeah, but we ain't trying to be, love.”

“What a grossly familiar way to refer to me, and right in front of your very pregnant mate.”

It's a perfectly in sync and equally offended, _“Hey!”_ that Kano and Kabal both shout out.

Kano turns to look to Kabal, not that he really needs to, for as close as he's scrunched in next to him. “I ever call you love?”

“No, and don't fucking start.”

“Tell me: why is _he_ the only one to know of the Sorcerer's whereabouts? If _you_ were the one assigned to exterminate him? Were you both assigned the task? Both shirked your responsibility for some utterly unknown reason.”

Erron knows he's wearing a shit-eating grin, even if he shouldn't be. He's in pretty deep, but there's something sort of fun about it all. Maybe it's that toying with Jade sparks something in him. “He was there for other reasons.”

“What possible other reason could he—” She looks to Kabal. “—could _you_ have?”

Kabal lets out a bark of laughter and explains, “Someone had to babysit your girlfriend.”

Jade's got this crestfallen, sad sap look on her face and the only thing that _isn't_ golden about it all is that Erron didn't get to put it on her. She sounds like all the air's been sucked outta her the way she says, “Kitana was there, too.”

“Yup.”

“Then she is in even more danger that I thought.”

Probably. It got her mixed up in even more shit than she planned to be, anyhow.

“I need to know where he's at, Kabal,” Erron insists, and it's not lost on him the way Kano somehow manages to move in even closer to Kabal, over his words.

He's thrown an arm around behind Kabal and tugs at his hip, and it'd come off as just a little more protective if it didn't also sort of look like a grope.

“Why?”

Erron feels like he's stating the obvious. “So Mileena can do what she was supposed to do all along.”

Kabal nods, and guesses, “Take her place.”

“That's right.”

Kano groans, obviously pissed off about the stuff he's outta the loop on, and demands, _“Who in the fuck is Mileena?”_

It says something that Kabal really did keep his mouth shut about everything that happened. Didn't so much as breathe a word of it to Kano. Didn't spill about _her_ , at least.

Kabal just snorts and guesses, “I get the feeling Kitana isn't looking to surrender her identity to the bastard sister nobody's supposed to know about.”

“You shitting me? That's why you were so tight-lipped, coming back from that job. What the fuck's the little princess looking to run away for?” Kano looks to Jade. “You two eloping or something?”

“You wish.”

Erron admits, “It's a little more complicated than that.”

Only even he doesn't know just how complicated until Kano says, “ _Kitana_? Kitana's the one got _him_ in SF's sights? I'll kill her myself.”

Jade blinks a couple of times, as she's mulling over Kano's words. Asks, “What in the world are you talking about?”

It's Kabal that answers her, “SF thinks I'm their mole.”

Erron's not one for giving a damn about anyone besides himself, but something about hearing that hits like a sucker punch.

Because, “If that were to get back to the Emperor—” Jade's blinking again, like it helps her process shitty information any better.

It's obvious what it means: Kitana would be off the hook and there'd be a hit on Kabal before anyone could blink.

“Don't even think it.” The warning is unnecessary, and what's more, it's coming outta Erron's mouth.

Even Kano and Kabal seem surprised he beat either of them to it.

Jade is just as quick to assure them, “I know better than to think I'll make it out the door alive.”

“Good.”

Jade cocks her head to the side, like she's gonna play coy. “Then we are agreed our best course of action is to seek out the Sorcerer and Mileena?”

“Nope.” Kabal's refusal is quick, and it's stone cold. Feels like there's more than stubbornness to it, too.

“What the fuck do you mean no, mate?”

Kabal doesn't answer Kano. Instead, he looks to Jade, and he's dead serious when he tells her, “You wanna protect Kitana, guess you better hire someone to take out Shao Kahn. Good luck with that, though. Unless...?” Then he goes and casts Erron a look.

“Yeah, right. Even I ain't that greedy. _Or_ stupid.”

Now Kano's nodding and smirking, though, and _shit_. “Might not need to hire anybody.”

Hell, he's planning something. Something along the lines of tangling with both Shao Kahn and SF if Erron's reading him right, and at the same time, no less. Well, it ain't gonna be boring, whatever Kano's got a mind to do.

* * *

 

Here Kabal thought the Island was creepy. Lin Kuei HQ has the same eerie sterility oozing from its very architecture. Not the sort of place he'd come to by choice. Yeah, this shit has _Kano_ written all over it. Well, except for the sterility part, whether it's cleanliness, or impotence.

Only, Kano's not the reason he's here right now. No, that's not true. Kano's definitely the reason for _this_.

It's Cyrax that meets Kabal at the elevators, and the first thing he does is give him the once-over. There's something like amusement in his voice as he says, “I didn't realize it had been so long since I _really_ saw you.”

It feels like he's hinting at something more than just _you're fucking huge now._ But that's the better part of what Kabal takes away from it. At least Cyrax doesn't try to hide his staring. Why should he? He knows the drill. _He_ just hasn't been dumb enough to let someone knock him up.

Cyrax sort of absently remarks, “When I heard what was to be done with _him_ —” He purposely leaves his sentence hanging.

“Yeah?” Kabal indulges him, though he's not sure why.

“I'm surprised Kano's allowing you to have any part of this.”

Kabal's surprised he's allowing _himself_ to have any part of this. But if it means they might finally end this shit—well, he'll do just about anything. Seriously, anything. “Yeah, well. Sort of has to be this way.”

“Almost as surprised as I am that the Emperor is allowing any of it.”

“Like I said: has to be this way.” It's also all Kabal is gonna say.

“If you say so.”

He does, and hopes that's the end of it, as Cyrax leads him into the open elevator and they head down.

Then it's a lot of badge swiping, as Cyrax escorts Kabal through a maze of too-quiet, too-clean corridors, considering the sparks flying behind all the reinforced windows they keep passing by.

Once he's sure it's really just them, Cyrax muses, “I saw you with the Emperor's daughter.”

Fucking when? And what's that got to do with anything? Weird bit of info to offer up, unless _that was_ _him_. “You're the one that took Sindel from the Island.” Kabal's not asking.

Cyrax doesn't say a word in response, though. Doesn't tell Kabal he's right. But also doesn't tell him he's wrong. It's almost like he wants Kabal to just guess at shit so _he_ doesn't have to say anything at all.

“So you're the one who brought her here?” Kabal asks, even though he knows he's not gonna get an answer.

Just the same lack of encouragement to go on, in the form of a half-smirk.

“Worked on her. Did whatever you all do here.”

Kabal knows he's gonna see soon enough. He knows he needs to, but he's really not sure he wants to.

Cyrax's half-smile, the silence, it's a dare—a challenge that Kabal shouldn't rise to, but he's equal parts jittery and curious, and he's just _gonna_. He knows it's a long shot, but he's gotta ask, “How'd you know it was me, on the road? Near the Island.”

Because seriously, how in the hell could Cyrax have recognized him? They barely saw each other in passing. They were both driving, and it was pouring rain. Kabal could hardly see that van well enough to avoid it. He sure couldn't make out the driver in it. The idea that its driver could see him? The windows on that sedan he was chauffeuring Kitana around in were tinted to shit and it was a raging storm by then.

A guy would have to have superhuman vision to make out a specific person in those conditions. _Of course_. Is Cyrax hinting that he's been enhanced in some way? He must be. Well, it's internal, and a hell of a lot more subtle than Kano's cybernetic implant, whatever it is.

It's too quick to pass as a brush-off, even though it's so obvious that's what Cyrax is trying for. He chuckles, and lies, “It's not important.”

Yeah fucking right.

“What all do you do for Sektor?” _And what all has he done to you?_

That's gone and offended Cyrax. “Nothing like what you do for Kano.”

At least everything anyone else has put inside Kabal is human. “Right.”

“And yet—” Cyrax nods, and looks way too thoughtful. “What I do is different, but not necessarily better. I'm sure it goes without saying that we're more than capable of handling your delivery. But I would advise you make other arrangements.”

Yeah, no shit. But thanks for the unneeded reminder of how not ready Kabal is to have a kid.

Or how fucked he is if _this_ doesn't work. Being _here_ makes it even heavier, even more urgent. It's staggering, and sobering to think about, the idea of being thrown in prison, or _worse_ before meeting his son, and it makes him sort of shut down. He's pretty sure he's gonna be a fuck up as a parent, but he'd like to at least _have_ the kid first.

“Are you having second thoughts? I didn't think you were capable of it.”

“Doesn't matter if I am.”

When they reach the end of the hall and stop in front of a single electronically locked door, there's no warnings not to screw up. No pep talk, or well-wishes. No _see ya on the other side_ kind of camaraderie shit. Cyrax just presses his palm against the panel next to the door. It slides open with a whoosh. It closes just the same, as soon as Kabal's inside the room. He's really fucking doing this.

The room's empty inside, except for a single bed, and the body on it. No machines monitoring his vitals, no IV line, or tubes of any kind. Well, it's not like he's got flesh and bone arms to stick it all into. He's not restrained, either. Guess Sektor figures he doesn't need to be, under this sort of guard, and following the sort of procedures—yeah, plural—that he's undergone. And he is _big_ , now that Kabal's really seeing him, and not just looking at a picture. Jax Briggs isn't quite Torr's size, but he's still formidable.

There's a fresh line of stitches from just under the collarbone to his armpit on the left side. Must be where Kano dug in, and nearly took off one of his bionic arms. Kabal knows there's another set of stitches somewhere else, too, even if he hasn't spotted them yet.

He has a pretty good idea where, too. Sektor's a little classier than an ice pick through the eye socket, even if that's his endgame. Even if lobotomies and cyborgs and Manchurian Candidate shit is all in a day's work for him.

“Who are you?” Jax's eyes are sort of unfocused, then way too focused. It's unnerving. He's confused as shit, but there's determination to spare, like it makes up for the lack of understanding. For how hard he's trying to find Kabal in his memory, and how badly he's failing at it.

They've never actually met before, so it's not surprising. But he'll figure it out soon enough.

“I'm just someone who has a lot riding on this.” Kabal's not lying.

“You're— Sonya's been trying to find you.” Now Jax has got it.

So Kabal assures him, “She did.” Again, it's the truth, even if it's being used as a weapon.

“Is she here?”

“Hell no she's not here.” It'd be all-out chaos if _she_ was here. Inside Lin Kuei HQ, manning—well, _leading_ —a jailbreak. “She's not here, and you need to not be here, either. Can you move? Because I _really_ can't carry you. Kinda already at my passenger limit.”

Kabal's not lying about that, either. It's the whole reason he's doing—well, any of _whatever the fuck this is._

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per the updated tags: Major character death. One more chapter after this. It's written, so I didn't/wouldn't leave this up in the air.

Dark. High ceilings. Tiny windows. Wide loading bay. Steel beams and patchy light. Moonlight and industry mixing together and trying to make something from the night. Kano's alone, because everyone he _almost_ trusts is busy with something else.

He'll see soon enough if Sonya and Jax listened and it's just the two of them who show up for their meeting.

It's a _rescue_ , as far as they're concerned, and they were given explicit instructions to come alone. They were sent word their snitch was compromised and needed out ASAP. Things just got too hot for him after he busted the Major out of Lin Kuei HQ. It's real urgent, too, since he's in such a delicate state and all.

What they don't know, alright.

Sort of feels like everything's coming full circle, though. Sonya and Jax, together again, and no doubt, they're raring to go. Kano, on top where he belongs, on account of how he's getting rid of the threat of SF once and for all.

“Where is he?” Sonya's teeth are gritted so tight it's a wonder she can do more than just snarl, and bare her fangs. That raw alpha anger of hers is just bubbling away, threatening to take her top right off.

_In due time._

Jax is just as mad, betrayed, but seems so even-keeled next to her.

Of course they're mad. They were expecting to see Kabal. That they _don't_ see him here has them convinced they're too late and he's dead.

“Ain't you learned to stay away from what's someone else's?” Kano asks. He's smirking, but don't anyone mistake that for the question not being serious. For _him_ not being dead serious about all of this.

The words barely fit through Sonya's clenched teeth. “He trusted me.”

Like hell he did.

“Well, that's an awful mistake to make, trusting the likes of you. Take it from the Major.”

Jax scoffs, “Worry about yourself, huh? I'm better than ever.”

That's what he thinks.

Hell if Kano understands how Sektor's done it, but the moment he locks onto Sonya with his cybernetic eye, Jax has turned to face her and he's staring her down. It's in his eyes. He's not mad anymore, though. He's just... _nothing_. He makes a fist with both hands and smashes 'em together. It's a dull sort of clunk—an off-key kind of sound, but Kano trusts Jax's instruments.

Then Jax grabs _Sonya_.

She tries to pull away, questioning, “Jax?” Her top rips and she's able to free herself.

Jax still has a bit of her shirt in one of his hands. Opens his fists and the cloth drops. Falls sort of slowly, _twirly_. Almost like a leaf off a tree. Whether plucked too soon, or withered and dried—they all fall the same.

Sonya's extended both arms and taken on a fighting stance, but it's clear she doesn't want to do it. Doesn't know how or why it's come to this. Hah. Of course. She's got no idea why Jax has turned on her. Thinks he's really gone rogue. Become one with the baddies.

“It ain't what you think, love,” Kano insists. He must be feeling generous, to be considering offering her any truth. What's it matter, if she's about to die, anyway? “He's no turncoat. You're just the kiss of death.”

Jax goes for Sonya again, real slow and deliberate. She fires off something from those gauntlets of hers. Must have her phasers set to stun, because it stalls the Major a moment, but doesn't really hurt him.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” Sonya shouts. She looks to Jax and pointlessly tries, _“Jax?”_

“I got loads in my repertoire, but you don't really think this is my handiwork?”

Sonya takes aim at Kano, but soon as she tries firing off a shot of _whatever_ from her wrist, Jax intercepts and blocks it with his arms, and boy, is that something.

Neither of them can think on how fucking bizarre it all is—Kano was half-expecting it and still can't quite wrap his mind around it. But then Jax has got Sonya again, and he's holding her with one arm and pounding with the other. Kano's _been_ in that spot. Those arms of Jax's are glowing, so bright and so hot that they're sizzling, almost.

It's the sort of beating that takes affect right off. Blood spurting from split lips and pouring down and over Sonya's perfectly straight, pretty white teeth. Eyes nearly swollen shut, nose broken and gushing, but she's still not giving up. Thrashing and wriggling, trying to land a hit, anything to get free. Big man doesn't feel anything, though, being on autopilot and all. Not from her, or for her.

A few more shots and Sonya's head snaps back and she's limp. Jax drops her like he senses it too. Well, doesn't a genius to see it. If she ain't dead, she's on the fucking brink.

Sonya hits the ground hard and doesn't brace for it at all. Doesn't move after she lands, either.

Weird to think it's the end of the great Sonya Blade. Weirder to think Kano didn't finish her himself.

He moves in to have a closer look, to make sure. Tentative—Jax is still here, for what he's worth. Well, a lot, considering the load he's just lifted from Kano's back. Then Jax starts grabbing for his own head, but it's not outta remorse. He's not snapped back to reality and realized what he's done. No, it's something else.

Jax is bleeding too, now, and he hasn't taken a real knock. From the eyes, the nose, the ears—from Sektor's fail-safe, no doubt. It isn't long before he drops, first to his knees, then topples forward, face-down, to end up right next to Sonya.

At some point, well after Kano's left—not that there's any trace he was ever here—some two-bit warehouse worker will stumble in for his shift and come upon a hell of a scene. Sure won't take much to figure out Jax's arms were what did Sonya in. If they find anything odd in _his_ COD, well, all of his _official_ work was done by Uncle Sam himself, so that's where they'll be looking for answers.

Kano's done his part, and then some. Erron better be taking care of his shit. Kabal—well, he better not be fucking doing _anything_ is what.

* * *

 

Turns out Erron is that greedy, and stupid, and he needs to just fucking ignore Kabal for the rest of his days. He'll have a lot more of them, that's for sure.

Message has been sent to Shao Kahn that his traitor's been caught, and to meet at the ruins of the Island to work out the handoff, and subsequent execution. Erron wouldn't spill who it was—it's too _sensitive_ to be done any way other than in person.

Erron knows better than to think the Emperor will come alone— _hell no_ is a man of his caliber that stupid. But he'll keep it real intimate. Long as it's not a bigger force than he and Torr can handle, they'll be fine. Oh, Mileena's here, too, but he isn't about to trust her. Even if she's gung-ho as shit to wreak some havoc.

He casts her an annoyed glance and asks, “The hell are you so anxious to mix it up for? You ain't gettin' paid.”

Mileena feigns innocence. “Sister needs me.”

“She doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself. _Maybe_ Jade.”

“Sister's _lover_? You know she would have been bequeathed to me when I ascended. The fun we would have had. Sister is lucky I love _her_ more.”

Erron needlessly reminds Mileena, “Well, it ain't mutual.”

Here's hoping her head's as thick as the denial running through it, in case things turn ugly, because Mileena insists, “It will be.”

“Just don't get killed, alright.”

“The mercenary? Worried for me?”

“That'll be the day.”

“Then perhaps you're worried for your _friend_ if something happens to _me_?” Mileena guesses. “Don't fret. The Sorcerer will take _good_ care of him.” She smiles and lets out some creepy shit giggle.

“He ain't my friend,” Erron insists, with a groan.

“Then what is he? He isn't _your_ omega,” Mileena taunts.

And Erron swears he sees Torr fucking smirking. But then he just sort of shrugs it off like he does everything else. Torr's not simple—far from it. Just unbothered. Erron likes that about him. Misses it about himself.

Erron just groans, “Emperor's here.” Not quite, but there's a limo approaching, and he's more grateful for the interruption than he'll ever admit.

The car slows to a stop right in front of Erron and the driver steps out first. He's a got a sidearm, so he's definitely pulling double-duty. Heads for the back, to open the door and lets Erron get a good look inside. Five bodies in the car. The Emperor, two more guards, and—

Shit.

If Shao Kahn's got both Kitana and Jade with him, and under real close _armed_ guard, it's damn likely he's onto them, or they've turned on the plan, _and_ Erron. Been caught plotting and sold him up the river to save their own asses.

They got enough on him, Kitana and Jade, that's for sure. Proof that he didn't finish a job—and a real big one, at that—and that he's gone and cozied up with at least one of the very people he swore to bump off. In a plot to take out the Emperor that his legitimate daughter was in on, too.

 _Her_ place in it all is sort of up in the air now.

“You mean to tell me this is my traitor?” The Emperor steps forward and grabs at Mileena's face with a real obvious fake softness. Gives her cheek a creepy caress, then cups her chin, and tilts her head upward, so he can look her over in the moonlight. Then he snatches her by the throat.

Shao Kahn's a big man, and easily strong enough to lift Mileena off the ground. He's got her coughing and gasping and she tries to draw a pair of sais and poke him _anywhere_. But it's aimless slashing that barely snags his suit jacket. The ground is soft and ashy, even now, and it hardly makes a sound when her weapons fall.

Mileena's squirming and brushing for footing with her tip-toes and the Emperor's purposely letting her dangle, while he chokes her.

“You can put her down,” Erron insists. He does his best not to show any sort of emotion—hell, to _feel_ any.

“I have every intention of doing just that.” The Emperor's words are served on a disgusted growl. _“I paid you to!”_

“Release her,” Kitana commands, as if she's got the authority. Her tone at least has some, to it.

“Why in the world would I do that?”

“Because we both know that killing her will not absolve you of your traitor,” Kitana offers, damn coolly, too. Steps up, just a hair. As much as she's willing to risk, with one of her old man's henchman aiming a semi-automatic at her.

Shao Kahn switches his gaze from the fake, to the real McCoy, even if they're _both_ his daughters, as he tosses Mileena to the ground. She grabs for her throat, still coughing a bit.

It's flippant, but booming, the Emperor's declaration of, “No, I imagine I'll have to kill _you all_ to accomplish that.” It's more than a declaration. It's an order. To execute. Immediately.

Shao Kahn doesn't need to signal his guards. Piss poor quality though they may be, at least they're quick to react.

Jade's already moved for the man on Kitana, oblivious to the fact that there's also one guarding her. Gives no fucks about the gun trained on her—hell, she reaches right for it, and yanks it from his hands as she's sweeping his legs out from under him, and _where the hell does the Emperor get these guys?_

Guess the pickings have been slim since Mortal Kombat shut down.

Erron figures that leaves the man who was _supposed_ to be holding Jade for _him_ to deal with. The thug's much better armed—or so he thinks—but he isn't nearly as fast on the draw as Erron. He's drawn, alright; he just ain't figured out he needs to switch targets. He'll catch on. Once the bullet hits.

Erron claims the guard's weapon while he moans and rolls around in the ash. It's a trash gun—useful, but ugly and classless. Still, it's best kept outta the wrong hands.

Torr charges the third enforcer and takes a hit to the shoulder for it. It's a through-and-through and nowhere near worth reacting to. Not for him, anyway. A few more rounds pop into the air before the last of the Emperor's guards is disarmed, and Torr palms his whole head before slamming him the ground. Then he puts... whatever the hell size boot he even wears into the man's head. Sometimes it _doesn't_ make much noise when bones break. Even a whole face's worth. Maybe it's just that it seems like it oughta be louder, considering it's the last sound that fella's ever gonna make.

Then it's just the Emperor left standing, and it looks like everyone else is sizing him up, but in an almost curious kind of way. Erron knows damn well he's just a man, and shooting him right here, right now _will_ kill him.

But it's not his place.

“My empire will crumble without me.” Shao Kahn's not one to beg, but if he was, this'd be him down on his knees.

He's outnumbered, and outmanned.

“That is precisely what I am hoping for,” Kitana insists.

But instead of heading for her old man, or Jade, she heads to Mileena. Gathers up her sais from where they landed when the Emperor was strangling her. Offers them over to Mileena, like it makes up for anything.

That dangerous, gleeful, altogether loony look settles in on Mileena's face, but there's a softness there, too, because she's taking Kitana's actions as acceptance. Mileena springs up to her feet like she wasn't just about choked to death. Well, she's got spunk. Except there's also something like restraint swirling around her, like she recognizes that she's had the better lot in life, between herself and Kitana, just being the discarded and forgotten one. She takes her sais, but is quick to turn one around and offer it to Kitana.

Kitana hesitates a moment, but accepts, understanding the meaning behind the gesture.

“I endear you, sister. Admit it.”

“You push your luck.”

Kitana can deny it all she wants, but there's something like camaraderie between her and Mileena. It's something else, too. Not sisterhood, or any sentimental shit like that. Shared trauma is more like it. But there's a certain synchronicity to the two of them, even if they only just found one another, only just _found out_ about one another, and may never really accept one another. Because they couldn't have each plunged a sai into Shao Kahn in more perfect harmony.

It's a failed inhale with no exhale and he drops, real slow.

Erron's not sure if this is how it's supposed to be or not. He's seen plenty of people breathe their last—been the reason for it many a time—but this is the first he's watched an Emperor fall.

* * *

 

Being benched fucking sucks, no matter the reason. In the past, not going on a job meant Kabal wasn't qualified—possible, but not real likely—or was too close to buying the farm from his last time out. This just makes him feel like some combination of dead weight and collateral. He knows better than to think he's any good to anyone anymore, or that he can do a damn thing besides sit around and wait.

It's all on Kano and Erron, now. He's really got no say in how anything turns out anymore and it's a shitty feeling.

Shitty, and creepy, because it sure didn't take Shang Tsung long to secure another freakshow of an estate, way the hell off the grid. Least he's willing to entertain guests. Or whatever the hell Kabal is to him. _Interesting,_ he figures, which is probably the only reason the Sorcerer's doing it.

They've got one big thing in common, the two of them, so there's that. Keyword: big. And hint: it's their shitty physiology.

Kabal supposes it's also possible the Sorcerer considers this repayment of a debt. Shang Tsung is definitely the type who prefers to be on the collecting end of those arrangements. Probably works to be flush—or better than—with just about anyone as soon as he can.

Offering the way-too-pregnant-to-do-anything omega room and board until he can show his face in public again? Small potatoes. He immediately, and way too cordially insists he has plenty of room for Kabal— _but is it really going to be just him?_ _That doesn't seem right, all things considered._

“Is it really just _you_?” is Kabal's snarky reply. He's lobbed it at the Sorcerer like a tear gas canister chucked back at the person who first pulled the pin.

Kabal knows the answer. He watched Mileena weasel her way into going with Erron. Even after being told she was gonna be part of a crew that were originally planning to kill her. Kabal can't help but wonder where he stands in this all if some shit like that still goes down.

Maybe he's just being paranoid. Or maybe it's that he feels like absolute hell, and not just for how useless he is. He can finally breathe again, but it's ended up being a pretty shitty exchange, because everything's just so much heavier now. In his lower back, and hips, and thighs. If it _can_ cramp, it has.

It's not _unbearable;_ it's just annoying. Kabal got used to the random spasms that started in about a month ago. Except, moving around always seemed to make those go away. But nothing seems to make it quit now. He goes just long enough without his insides twisting and tightening up that he almost forgets, until it happens again. And again.

Yeah, right. Kabal doesn't almost forget, and it's getting harder to believe it's not the real thing.

It's _not_. Because it _can't_ be.

“Did you really— _how shall I say it?_ Go to bat for me? For Mileena?” the Sorcerer asks, suddenly. He seems perplexed by the idea.

“Something like that.” Kabal shrugs. He's a little perplexed, too, honestly. Altruism isn't exactly his style. He explains, “Wasn't gonna sell you out and let Jade kill her just to save Kitana's snitching ass.”

“No?” Shang Tsung still sounds surprised.

“No.” It's answer enough, and even if it wasn't—his fucking back. He reaches around and tries to knead at it. Not that it's gonna help. Could there just be one part of his body this kid isn't gonna wreck before it comes out?

Shang Tsung's eyes are narrowed, in a mix of judgment and curiosity. He's suspicious about something, that's for sure. He's right to be once-bitten and all, but there's no plot against him this time. He asks, “And why not sell us out?”

There wasn't anything in it for Kabal, plus, “Because it's a shit thing to do.”

The Sorcerer insists, “Many a _shit thing_ has been done in the name of self-preservation.”

“I try not to fuck people over unless they deserve it.” Then all bets are off, but yeah.

Shang Tsung's got an oddly amused look on his face as he asks, “Where's Kano, again?”

Already made your point there, Sorcerer. Reigning king of self-preservation.

It's a snarky, short-tempered, _“Why?”_ Kabal tosses his way, and it's riding another fucking cramp.

“Because I'm quite sure you're in labor and have been for some time.”

“What?” Kabal knows he sounds taken aback, and breathless. Well, the cramp hasn't let up and Shang Tsung's words feel more like an accusation than an observation.

“You're very stubborn.”

“I'm pretty sure I'd know—”

“And I'm pretty sure _you_ _do_.” The Sorcerer grins and leans forward a bit. Laces his fingers together and rests his chin on his hands. Then he takes to looking Kabal over way too closely. “Now, between you and I, we can surely handle everything _vital_. But if you're hoping for someone to stroke your hair and tell you how great you're doing, you'd best hope Kano returns from his errand soon.”

Kabal groans. It's just plain frustration, though. This time.

Because, well—everything. Including _that_ being about the farthest from a description of Kano as there has ever been. Worse still, it's not like he's out there getting them an actual place to stay, instead of some shitty safehouse to squat in. Just trying to get all the right people to kill each other so they can _maybe_ do that at some point. They haven't got a single thing they're gonna need to take care of a baby. This kid is gonna come out with nowhere to live, or sleep, and nothing to wear, because they've been entirely focused on not ending up dead or in prison.

They're both such fuck ups that's what they've _had to do_ this whole time.

Shang Tsung offers Kabal a hand, and asks, “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

The Sorcerer sighs, but keeps his arm extended. “Adjourn to somewhere more appropriate?”

What the hell else can Kabal even do? So, he takes the Sorcerer's hand—more like takes hold of his whole forearm—and stands up. Grudgingly accepts he's actually letting someone else pull him upright, no less. And it's some shitty combination of instinct and just weakness that has him tightening his grip around Shang Tsung's arm when he feels it.

Yup. His water definitely just broke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If mains were a thing back when MK2 was new, Mileena was mine. That ball roll and the teleport kick, all day long. I just want everyone to love and accept her, no matter how fucking bizarre she is. Thank you, that is all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, trigger/squick/skip warning for anyone who was down with my knocking up a dude until putting a baby in it inevitably became getting the baby out. I tried to balance not shying away from shit with not going full-graphic mode and weirding y'all out even more. So, semi-graphic, let's say.  
> It's the first scene. So you can roll on past that if you don't want any part of it.

 

Kano's looking forward to bragging, if he says so himself. It was a damn good idea, his, and shit went just how it was supposed to, for the first time in way too long. He's got no problem admitting that none of it would've worked if Kabal hadn't been so convincing busting Jax outta Lin Kuei HQ in the first place. Being just what the major and Sonya so desperately wanted him to be.

A good guy.

Who looks like fucking hell. Takes everything in Kano not to stomp over and burn the Sorcerer a good one for letting him get to be in such a state. Shang Tsung was just supposed to keep Kabal out of sight until Kano took care of those looking too closely in his direction. Help him lace up his boots and tune out his stupid shit complaining for just a little while.

 _Fuck_ whatever's happened here.

“Before you say anything,” Shang Tsung drawls, and way too goddamn casually. “He's fine.”

Kabal lets out this dangerous, raw kind of chuckle and glares Kano's way. Insists, _“He's not fine,”_ and he sounds downright deranged.

Well, he's alright enough to be pissed off, at least. It's no relief, though. He's propped up in bed, and his face is all flushed and he's real fidgety. Clenching and unclenching his fists, like he wants to punch something but just hasn't settled on what. His shirt's spotted and stuck to him with sweat.

Kano doesn't need to be a fucking rocket scientist—or _sorcerer_ or cyberneticist—to know what's going on under those sheets that barely cover anything. To know what's just plain _going on_. Kabal's really gonna have the kid. Their kid. Real fucking soon, from the looks of it. Now that Kano's here, _they're_ both gonna expect _him_ to hold his hand through it or something.

Kano must be staring, because the Sorcerer's got a real satisfied smirk on his face, and is telling him, “He's not contagious. You can touch him.”

“Rather hear it from him,” Kano insists. He'd like to save himself a nice, hard knock to the balls for the damage he's caused and whatnot. He steps up, cautiously, and chances running his hands along Kabal's arms. Knows his touch is weak, loose. But he isn't gonna try for anything else. It's all just too weird.

“What? You wanna hear that I'm fine? Or that you can touch me without catching _being in labor_?”

“Already touched you.”

“Yeah, you sure as hell did.” Kabal's snark—his words, his voice—all fades into something like a whimper, except it's so angry. Stubborn fuck doesn't wanna let on how bad it must be, either.

He's been in loads of scrapes before, and some pretty nasty ones, too. Nasty enough that this isn't anywhere near the first time he's been trusted to the Sorcerer to be put back together.

Except this time, he's here to be _taken apart_ or something.

There's something in Kano that wants to make it stop—take to comforting Kabal. But the only way he's ever known to take anyone's pain away is to just plain kill them, and he's never killed anyone out of mercy. Never gave a shit about anyone he's hurt before, and he's got no clue how to do it.

When it's been way too long and Kano's had enough of the strained way Kabal's trying to breathe through clenched teeth, he ventures to ask, _“You okay?”_ But it's only a formality. He wants to know plenty. But it's _not_ a yes or no question.

If Kabal gives anything _but_ an affirmative, there's gonna be a problem.

There's a problem. Because Kabal's reply is a panicky, nonsensical sort of, _“He has nowhere to go.”_

Kano knows pity won't fly, but maybe logic has a shot. He offers, “Can't stay in there forever.”

“That's _definitely_ not what I'm talking about.” Kabal makes a point to glare, but it's all mixed up with a grimace. “We don't—I don't—he has nothing, when he comes out, and— _fuck_.”

It's back on Kabal's face and in his voice again and he barely just got it all back. Came back around. Regained his senses there for a moment.

Well, that part's not that hard, though, is it? What the fuck do the _things_ need? It isn't gonna need anything— _anyone_ —besides Kabal, right? Hasn't so far. What's it gonna wear? Stupid tiny cutesy numbers, like they all do. What's it gonna do? Scream and sleep and shit itself, and that's about it, right?

“Important, yes,” Shang Tsung agrees. “But let's prioritize, shall we?”

Kano cocks his head to the side as he sort of sits down on the bed next to Kabal. Tries at brushing sticky, matted hair from Kabal's face, but it's still pretty well held in his ponytail, anyway. So it just comes off as a useless, soft, _shit_ gesture. “How the hell long have you let him go on like this?”

“As if it's up to me.” Smug ass Sorcerer smirks, like he's enjoying this. Well, not like he gets out much. But then he looks to Kabal and drops the shit-eating grin immediately. Turns real serious, and there's something almost like sympathy coming off of him. “Your contractions are rather close together.”

Then Shang Tsung's reaching for the sheets. Shoving them up, and Kabal's legs apart. Fondles him like it's nothing. Seems satisfied, but in an almost professional sort of way. Close enough to it that Kano's not gonna knock his block off just yet.

“ _You fucking think?”_ Kabal sort of hisses it out, then arches upwards a bit, but it doesn't do a thing for him.

“I think it goes without saying you need to push.”

When Kabal finally goes slack again, his eyes are hazy, trying to find Kano's, and he just groans out, “You're gonna look, aren't you? Even if I tell you not to.”

“Just watched our biggest problem get beaten to a bloody pulp.” And enjoyed it. “Course I am.”

Kano said it himself: omegas squeeze out brats all the time. Isn't exactly a show he's been front and center for before. Hell if he's gonna admit he should've heeded Kabal's warning, though. Or was it a request?

Hard to tell, the way he can only get a couple words out at a time. The wincing through clenched-teeth, the groaning—few threats, too—it's all muffled now, anyway, for how he's leaned and sagged into Kano and gripped onto him. He's dead weight and he's an inferno, there's just so much heat and pain coming off of him.

Well, there's a fucking person _coming out of him_. Slimy and bloody, but it's got all the right parts and they're out in the right order. Head, shoulders, arms, legs. There's no crying, but it's wiggling a bit, so it must be alright.

Shang Tsung would say something, _do_ something, if it wasn't.

It's _all_ Kabal gives a shit about, blubbering into Kano's neck, about _why isn't he crying_ , and _hand him over already_ , and _just tell him if there's something wrong with him_ , and then—

 _Then_ the thing starts making some raspy, squawking noise.

“I can assure you, he is fine.”

There's Kabal's answer, if he's got his wits about him enough to process it. Kano repeats it into his damp, stuck down hair, “He's fine, mate.”

 _He's fine,_ and he's not just a thing, or an it. Huh.

 

* * *

The pain's settled into to a deep kind of aching throughout Kabal's lower body, but there's a sharpness to it, every so often, too, if he moves the wrong way. Tries for something dumb that he knows is gonna hurt. Like looking up from the baby in his arms— _so fucking weird_ —to Kano, and suggesting, “He needs a name.”

Kano sort of agrees, “Probably.”

Kabal's so exhausted it's almost funny. “Not probably. Definitely. Your son— _our son_ —definitely needs a name.”

He doesn't weigh a thing, and yet, he weighs everything. He looks so small and that's just gotta be an optical illusion or something. He's cute enough, as far as Kabal can tell, but he's not perfect or any stupid shit like that. Nothing he or Kano, or the two of them _together_ is responsible for has any hope of _that_. But he's right. He's just right.

His hair is fuzzy, and soft, and dark. His eyes are dark, too, but not quite any particular color. Kabal was sure they'd be brown, parentage and all. Maybe they will be. Maybe they _are_ and he's just not seeing it right. Maybe it's another optical illusion.

Oh, and clothes. He's got clothes now. So _somebody_ did that, at some point, when Kabal was sleeping for nowhere near long enough to not still feel half dead. The Sorcerer insists he had it easy, relatively speaking. _Hah_.

When Kano finally speaks again, it isn't to offer up any name suggestions. He just says, “SF's taken care of.”

Kabal sort of knew that, from something he heard Kano say, earlier, when he was busy _doing_ —yeah, that. _Doing? That?_ Having a kid. Giving birth. Man, is that bizarre to think about, even now.

He shifts the newborn in his arms and chooses to look at _him_ , and not Kano, as he remarks, “That doesn't sound like a name, but okay.”

“You did good.”

“With...?”

“Don't be an asshole, Kabal. You know with what.” _Exactly_. Because Kano couldn't possibly admit he was talking about _the other thing_ that just happened between them.

“See how you just called me by _name_ there?”

Kano ignores him, and continues on, “Went just like we planned. Major made a real good mess outta her, too, then he dropped on a dime right after. But I don't want you worrying about any of that now.”

“No?” So, what should he worry about? Kabal knows better than to think the answer is gonna be _nothing_.

Still, it's a little surprising to hear Kano say, “Just you take care of him, alright.” To hear him say it, period, and almost sincerely, too.

“Just me?” If Kabal's supposed to be riding some new parent high or something, he missed the boat. Or he's trapped _under_ the wave. He wants answers like air, even if he knows taking it in is gonna burn, and make him cough. It all sort of feels like trying to breathe underwater.

“Ah, fuck off.” The brush-off is so flippant, meaningless. Not at all angry, and Kano insists, “That's not what I meant.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“You up for visitors?” Kano asks, sort of suddenly. He's quick to explain, “Because the second Ferra heard you popped _him_ out, she's been up my ass to see you. Hell if I know why.”

“Probably wants to ask a shitload of innapropriate questions about it all.”

 _'How bad did it hurt?'_ And _'what'd it look like?'_ Shit like that.

 _'Way, way more than Kabal can ever hope to articulate'_ , and _'ask Kano, because he doesn't fucking listen.'_

Kano offers, “I can tell her to fuck off.”

Kabal sighs, but does laugh a little. The rumbling seems to make the baby grumpy. He whines a bit but doesn't full-on screech and wail. Thankfully.

Kano's nonchalant. “I'll tell _everyone_ to fuck off, if you want.”

“Everyone?” Kabal echoes. Who else is there?

Kano scoffs, “Like goddamn hyenas, all of 'em, wanting at you. He's like a magnet or something.”

Well, magnets attract _and_ repel. It makes sense.

Kabal shrugs, and he's really gotta quit making movements without thinking. It doesn't hurt—doesn't make anything hurt worse, at least—but he's just way too paranoid about upsetting the kid. Upsetting _everything_. It's not even balance, but it all feels too delicate. He insists, “I'm not hiding or anything.”

He doesn't have to, anymore. Kano did come through on that. Kabal can brood all he wants about stupid shit, like neither of them being white-picket fence worthy, or how they're really nothing more than a couple of criminals who have a baby together now. Still, there's no diminishing what it means that Kano took care of the threat of SF. Even managed to honor his word he wouldn't be the one to kill either Sonya or Jax.

“Right.” Kano tries to make it look and sound offhand the way he suddenly offers, “Trevor.” He both is and isn't introducing someone.

The name obviously means something to Kano, but if he isn't gonna explain what, Kabal's not gonna push it. He has no objections, and the kid doesn't, either. He agrees, “Okay.”

Kano _sort of_ explains, “Made me who I am today.”

“I said okay. I like it.” Even if Kabal hated it, Kano would probably just go, _'You told me to name him. I fucking named him.'_ So he just asks, “What about the rest?”

“Erron did his part.”

“Then...?”

Kano nods, and confirms, “Emperor's dead. Erron, Torr—well, I wasn't too worried about them. Charlie's Angels, though—” He snorts, and shakes his head, clearly trying to knock Kitana, Mileena, and Jade out of it. He almost looks amused, though, as he adds, “But they're all alive and kickin'.”

“Then Kitana's in charge of everything, now?” Kabal asks.

“Not quite.”

Kabal knows he's wearing the confusion on his face, and that it's an absolute mismatch for the smirk tugging at Kano's mouth.

Kano just explains, “She ain't next in line, is she?”

“She isn't?”

“A kid's got _two_ parents, hasn't it?” Kano cocks his head to the side. It seems like he's hinting at something.

Kabal dares to ask, “Who are you talking about?”

“Everyone, mate. And the Princess has still got _one_ parent.”

Yeah, Kitana does. But Sindel went from comatose to cyborg. _Oh_. Explains why Sektor was so agreeable to, well, anything Kano proposed. He was probably already working at something similar, and all too happy to have anyone but his own people do all the heavy lifting. Risk _their_ reputations, and lives if it didn't work.

Kano pointedly declares, “And that just leaves us.”

Then he almost smiles, and actually reaches out for the baby. It's Trevor now, isn't it? Kabal's sure Kano meant to leave it at merely pointing to him, and just opted not to recoil when he actually touched the kid instead. But then Kano runs his finger along his arm. The size difference is pretty staggering, but Kabal knows it's another optical illusion. Hell, that he's seeing Kano even touch their son could be the illusion. He isn't exactly the paternal type.

“Us?” Kabal echoes the word, even though he knows better than to assume Kano's speaking of anything other than their professional relationship.

“To figure on what we're gonna do now.”

“Right.”

“Put our necks on the line for the _Princess,_ ” Kano needlessly reminds Kabal. “And I don't know about you, but I don't intend to let _anyone_ forget it.”

It's true. They did. But it was just as much to dig themselves out of the hole their own stupidity and carelessness landed them in. Anybody else who benefitted from it all got lucky.

Kano sounds both entertained and annoyed when he asks, “So, are you up for visitors or what?” He's already at the door, but then he stops, sort of stiffens, and glances back to repeat, “You did good.”

* * *

 

The fencing, the barb wire, it's all so new and clean looking. Sharp, and shiny. The chain around the gate has never screeched and sang and been pulled taut by someone's regrets. The lock has never been snapped shut before a bout, or popped open after one. It's never marked anyone's point of no return, or welcomed a fighter back after a win. Never been the period at the end of _you can't escape, and the only way out now is to fight._

A man only ever sees a fight cage without blood in it once.

Erron muses that it's sort of like looking at Trevor, and wondering how long before he's gonna stop looking— _being_ —innocent. Because the more time passes, it's clear Kano and Kabal didn't just make him; they're _gonna_ make him. Still, it's not Erron's problem, or his place. Just an observation. A thought.

An inevitability.

Word around town is that what did Shao Kahn in was an unknown deal with an unknown party, gone real bad. Shame he didn't bring more, and better backup with him. Maybe it was the Red Dragon. Maybe it's some new player altogether, trying to crown himself Emperor.

It's the sort of thing SF would investigate, except they're still busy trying to figure out why a decorated major up and bludgeoned his partner—an equally distinguished lieutenant—in a fit of rage. Must've been something real wrong with his brain, the way he just keeled over right after, too. Worked himself into some kind of fatal frenzy or something.

So far, to Erron's surprise, everyone's been damn agreeable to the changing of the guard. Maybe it's that the Emperor's closest allies—well, strongest, anyway—are sticking around. Nobody's looking to mess with the likes of the guy with a full-blown robot soldier factory, or anyone crazy enough to plot to murder Shao Kahn.

_And succeed._

The Empress doesn't care what the likes of Kano, or Erron, or Kabal does. Or Torr, or Ferra, alongside them. She isn't at all concerned with what Sektor and his company are up to, either. Hell, she _is_ his company. His _kind of_ company, anyway. It's really just that she can't care about much of anything.

Sektor's okay with sharing the load with Shang Tsung, too, so the Sorcerer's back in business. That's a relief, because Erron sure as hell wasn't was keen on the idea of going to the mad scientist after a scrape and ending up a Stepford Wife. Oh, and Sektor says he can work with corpses, so long as they're fresh. He's branching out into cryonics now, or something.

Well, he might just get a few. Corpses, that is. Erron's pretty sure Torr hasn't gotten rusty, and hell, he's got confirmed kills now.

Kitana wants no part of any of it, and has been told _via con dios_ more than once. She and Jade still haven't taken off for greener pastures yet. Erron's sure she won't go too far, but that she also doesn't wanna be too close. It's just too weird to watch her shell of a mother slog through _un_ life. Watch the sister she just barely found out about ascend and take over _her_ place in their father's criminal empire. Watch Mileena do it with a shit-eating grin on her face, no less.

Problem is, Kitana also knows that lightning ain't gonna strike twice and she's lucky she got away with killing one parent. It's best not to push her luck and try for offing her mother, too. Go whacking at the family tree, willy-nilly. That's nobody's business, though, and Kitana knows what it means that she's being allowed to walk away. That the people she shares such ugly secrets with are willing to pretend all the blood on her hands is inherited. Smile and nod and just let her snap herself off at the tip of the branch, and hope she rolls somewhere she ripens, instead of rots.

As for the new _Princess?_ Well, none if it bothers her any. In fact, it turns out Mileena likes a little bloodsport. More than likes it, and more than a little.

Mortal Kombat always did gangbusters for the empire. No reason not to start it all up again. Bigger venue won't hurt, either. It'll be good for Outworld, in addition to the normal fare of dealing in funny money, and weapons, and girls, and omegas. It was always bigger than the Black Dragon, anyway, and the Black Dragon was always bigger than that dingy, dinky bar.

The Black Dragon wasn’t ever really just a place, or name; it was _them_. Feels like it will be again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to end on a realistic note, (dudepreg aside) so I hope it wasn't too depressing a sendoff. I feel longevity for Kano and Kabal, just in a snarky and relatively dysfunctional way, so yeah.


End file.
